Have I mentioned that I’m the mom of a 4-year old going on 17, a 7-year old going on 30 and a 45-year old going on 3? They don’t need a mom, they need a parole officer! But unfortunately I don’t have a criminal justice degree and really don’t like the look of bars on my windows, so I guess the title “mom” will have to stay.
“Dad” (ie the 3 year old) is helpful, in a “happy to fix that shower head,” kind of way. What Dad is not, is responsible! Which has made this summer an utter nightmare for “mom.” After an entire three months with two boys all over the place he still can’t seem to remember basic essentials to summer parenting. Such as:
- Sunscreen is a necessary evil of sending your child outside
- A day at the swimming pool is not the equivalent of having a bath
- Camping is no excuse for not brushing your teeth for three days
- Beer is not for breakfast just because mom wants to have some time to herself
- When camp sends home a permission slip it needs to be signed, not left in your truck for two weeks
So while I’ve been packing lunches, sorting towels, tennis shoes or flip flops, making sure one kid hits the park by 8am and the other soccer at 10, Dad could be found in his man cave (ie our garage) hiding from what he doesn’t know. Maybe I should consider that a blessing though considering I’ve got new shelves in the garage and the door handle is fixed! I guess we all have our talents.