Beans! Maters! Squash! Cukes! Summer Garden!
Two more days of school. Two half-days, to be precise, and then the bell rings, and it's eleven weeks of summer fun.
I am terrified.
Will has already displayed a bit of his patented summer behavior. On Saturday he lolled about the house groaning, "I'm too tired to do anything," and "I'm bored," and "Can I have some extra computer time?" I came up with a list of sparkling ideas for fun and frolic, but no. My ideas were boring. Life is boring. Can I watch TV?
Jack slept until 3. I assumed he was up. The Man assumed he was up. He wasn't up. Of course, he wasn't whining about how bored he was, either, which is the plus side of having a child who would happily sleep eighteen hours a day. Sure, he's a tree sloth, but he's a quiet, uncomplaining sort of tree sloth.
My summer plans? Surviving. That's the number one plan.
Number two? Following my new-found commandments for happiness. I've been reading Gretchen Rubin's The Happiness Project, which I recommend for mental housekeeping. I'm working on my list of personal commandments, and right now they include the following:
1. Eat when you're hungry, stop when you're full.
2. First things first.
3. Accept the reality of the situation.
The reality of my situation is that my children are not always splendid. I don't understand this, because the Man and I are splendid 99% of the time. Do the math: doesn't that mean our children should be splendid 198% of the time?
Some good things: Yesterday, I canned eight pints of blueberry jam, using the blueberries picked last summer that were buried at the bottom of my deep freeze. I cleaned out the deep freeze after the Man and I walked through the garden Friday night and realized that in a matter of weeks, we are going to be drowning in a sea of tomatoes. Time to make room in the freezer for this year's crops.
When I cleaned out the deep freeze I found a cup of snow from three winters ago. I didn't know what to do with it, so I put it back in the freezer. Seems a shame to throw it away. I could throw it at the children instead.
Do you have any personal commandments? Other than no throwing snowballs at the children in the house? Share!
P.S. A couple of you who shall not be named (Tracy, Debbie) read my last post and brought up ... my attic. Sigh. Yes. It's still there, it's still a mess, I still haven't hired a bright, energetic organizer to come make it bearable. But look at my hall closet! It's beautiful!
10 comments:
I have a great idea for your leftover snow...one day this summer when Will is particularly whiny about being bored and Jack is still sleeping after 18 hours, let Will throw the snowball at Jack to wake him up...instant excitement! I like your commandments, I could use some of those right now. Ah, and the attic, well it's too hot now, so I think that is a perfectly good excuse to wait until winter to finish!
My kids couldn't wait until it was summer vacation, and then complained that they were bored the first day! I think it's just a kid thing. My personal commandments: Be Awesome Today (yes, I spend too much time on Pinterest),
Don't worry about things that haven't happened yet,
and
Walk everyday.
I keep telling the kids at school that one week from now they'll be VERY bored, but they do not believe me.
Don't worry about the attic. Really, don't.
Blueberry jam sounds delightful and I am so jealous of your glorious maters. My kids are always freezing hail balls and it drives me nuts. What are they going to do with those?
I LOVE your summer garden. I dream of having something even a little bit like that *sigh*.
My kids freak out at the idea that you have an 11 week holiday. They can't imagine how awful that would be. We get six weeks. It's just enough.
My current personal commandment? Hmmmmmm....
1. Remember sugar hates you - even a little bit.
2. Laugh more often.
Just so you know I dream of having tidy cupboards. Dh is whisking us off to Queensland for the duration of my winter break so I'll not be getting to them any time soon.
I would definitely throw that snow at the kids -- outside or inside. I think it'll change their boredom to excitement!
Like I've said before, leave the attic to your children and let them sort through it some day when you die.
Homegrown tomatoes? Soon? Wow, I just put my plants in the ground a week ago. Eat a tomato sandwich for breakfast for me.
The blueberry jam sounds so good! I'm imagining it over angel food cake with a glop of whipped cream on top. Um!
Jody
Instead of personal commandments I simply run around the house, my crazy lady hair all a dither, screaming, "whah, whah!" One day, calm will return to Casa Domum, I shall have personal commandments (which I shall keep) and my carpet will no longer small vaguely of feet. Until that day I reserve the right to go mental as and when circumstances dictate.
Eight pints? Why do we restrict ourselves to children to feel fulfilled? Eight pints? I spoke to an educational psychologist about these matters- actually, so fearful for my ability to survive was this woman that she took me out for a walk with her dog. It is a sign of my doubt in my ability to survive that I went despite the dog. She says let them have the technology time. She did qualify that statement, but hey, the damage was done!
I don't have any personal rules, but the ones people are putting here are making me think...
I agree with Jody about the snow and the attic.
About kids who use the word bored -- I can't remember my own rule about that very well at this late date, but I think it's very common for parents to disallow it, i.e. to have stiff penalties for its use. If you say you are bored, you get extra chores, for example.
Other than that, you should keep on doing the things you love, because if there's one thing that is boring, it's trying to get a bored person enthused.
I know how to cure boredom in kids. Every time they say, "I'm bored," then you say, "Oh good! I know how to fix that!" Then proceed to give them a chore to do. After 2-3 times, if that many, they'll quit saying it. Works like a charm.
Oh, and with boys another good trick is to let them dig a hole. Boys have to have an outlet for all that energy. Our youngest, who is now a seminary student at Westminster Theological Seminary in Philadelphia, dug one out in the woods that's literally seven feet deep. We use it now to throw dead chickens in when they croak. No really we do.
A more productive way to spend their time is to find some nice older man willing to have them hang around and learn things from him. Do they have a grandfather close by? If not, ship them 'back to the old home place' for a few weeks this summer.
Aren't I just full of good ideas? I raised three boys and am now helping my oldest daughter raise her four. Hmmmm...I feel a blog post coming on. Bye, Frances!
P.S. I owe you a postcard.
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