We didn't even make it to 8:30 a.m. before we experienced our first crisis.
Let me preface this by explaining that I am not a great parent. I have never in the six years that I've been a parent stayed home all day every day with both kids. The first summer, of course, when my older son was still a baby, I was home with him. But at that point, it was relatively easy. He was on formula by then instead of breastfeeding, so I didn't have to be "tied" to him all the time (man, when he was breastfeeding...sheesh. He'd fall asleep still attached to the boob, which meant I was stuck sitting with him beside me on the boppy pillow, and I couldn't do anything other than watch movies and check Facebook on my phone. Much like every other summer). I was able to take him on errands and not worry about him wandering off, and if he made noise, everyone else just thought it was super cute. When he'd fall asleep, I could get other things done. Ah, those were the days.
The next summer, when my older son was a year-and-a-half, I also had a newborn to deal with. My younger son was born June 8. So my daycare provider, in her infinite awesomeness, took the older one each day so that I only had the new baby to worry about. Thank goodness for that. I don't know what I would have done with a crazy toddler and a fussy infant at the same time. While I didn't get out much, since the baby was still really young, I did at least get out a few times, and he was easy to lug along in the pumpkin carrier.
Ever since then, each summer has been a "partial" summer, with the boys going to the sitter at least three days a week. Two summers ago, it was four days a week, and last summer it was actually five days a week. The days were a little shorter, because we'd take the boys later in the morning and pick them up earlier, but it still gave me time each week to do things for myself. I loved going to the movies on discount Tuesdays. I got to see movies that my husband wasn't necessarily interested in seeing and that I couldn't take the kids to see.
The reason things have changed this year is money. With both of us working side jobs (my husband consults for a company in North Carolina and I proctor standardized tests each month and also work with the National Writing Project to do professional development for teachers), we ended up pushing ourselves out of our tax bracket this year. Instead of getting money back like we usually do, we owe $4000 in income tax. In trying to figure out how we were going to afford the unexpected tax payment, we came to the decision that it was time to end daycare. It seemed silly to pay $1200 each month for daycare when I'm sitting at home by myself, especially since we still paid the full $300 each week even though she watched them for a shorter period of time each day. Two and a half months' of no daycare would take care of $3000 of our tax burden. Then, in the fall, both boys will be in school full time for the first time (big brother in first grade and little brother in kindergarten). We decided that we would put them in afterschool programs at the local YMCA, which buses the kids from their schools to the Y (right across the street from my husband's workplace) and costs for one month the same as about a week and a half of daycare. Seemed like a no-brainer.
The problem is my sanity. Again, as I've established, I am not a good parent. I really don't enjoy spending time with my kids. Now, that doesn't mean that I don't love them. I do. And it doesn't mean that there aren't times when I have fun with my kids. What it does mean is that I have very little patience, and my kids aggravate the crap out of me most days in less than fifteen minutes. I end up yelling at them (never thought I'd be a yeller, but am I ever) about everything.
This morning is a perfect example. Both kids were up much earlier than I anticipated. We let them stay up more than an hour past their school-year bedtimes in the hopes that they'd sleep in a bit. Instead, I was coming back from my walk with the dog at about 6:45 a.m., and both of the boys were already out of bed and in the living room. So much for having peaceful time with my coffee this morning. That pretty much set the tone for the day. Things seemed like they would go ok, for a while. We made up a checklist of things the kids had to accomplish before they were allowed to use tablets, computers, or the tv, stuff like getting dressed, eating their breakfast, making their beds, and the like. But then the wheels started falling off. At 8:20, my older son managed to let the dog out of the house (our yard is not fenced and our dog is not obedient). I had to lure her back into the house with pepperoni and cheese, while my kids ran around and basically got in the way. It's especially worrisome when she gets out, because there's a no-loose-dog ordinance in our neighborhood, so she could get picked up by animal control, and of course she could get hit by a car. I just wish the kids would be more careful. After that, I had a video call with a coworker regarding the professional development we are doing for some teachers later this week (which I still don't have childcare for, by the way). I had to find a place that was quiet and that the boys wouldn't be likely to interrupt me. I went into my room, leaving them in the living room supposedly watching a movie. But of course they couldn't stay away. I didn't lock the bedroom door because I assumed they would hammer on it a be loud. But that meant they could come in. They both wandered in and out, asking questions, waving into the camera, and even making posters and showing them off. My friend thankfully has several kids of her own and totally understood, but it was still frustrating. My call didn't last long, thankfully. Both kids then started clamoring for lunch. At 9:30 a.m. Sigh. Perhaps if they hadn't woken up so early... I managed to distract them for a while with another movie, but they both grew bored. I told them both several times that they could go out and play with their friends, but they were unwilling to put forth the effort to find someone to play with. And heaven forbid they play with each other. That almost always ends in tears (occasionally mine). The crowning jewel of the morning was when my six-year-old knocked a salt shaker off the counter, popping loose the bottom and spilling salt all over the floor, which he promptly walked away from. It's still only 11:30 now, and I've already given them their lunch. They've been begging for snow cones, because I foolishly bought them a snow cone machine. I'm wishing I had tequila, because I could turn my own snow cone into a nice frozen margarita. :)
So, it's not even halfway through the first day of summer, and I'm already done. I have a couple of errands we need to run this afternoon, to the store and to my school to pick up some honors essays I need to read. Then I really hope I can convince the boys to play outside and give me some time to do some reading. I've got basically four books I need to read for my professional development workshop on Wednesday. Two days...four books...two kids...*sigh*
Pray for me.
