There are many terms to label a mom. There’s Granola Mom, Helicopter Mom, Tiger Mom. I’m starting a new label: August Mom.

I’m a stay at home mom and the summer does quite a number on our brains. In June we are still reveling in not having to make lunches and follow up on homework. In July we’ve hit a stride and almost a routine… almost. The zoo is still fun. Going to the movies is still a treat.

Around July 29th things start going pear shaped. You regret not sending them to camp or you regret using up all the camp time so early in the summer. The zoo is now just hot and expensive. The movies are crap and you will do anything to not hop them up on boxes and straws full of sugar.

Food in general takes on a confusing form. The once-stocked fruit bowl is just a display of soft warm fruit while the pantry is full of snacks that are boxed, and can be reached by children. Food that can be opened and closed by small hands.

My patience by August has been totally used up and rung out. Bedtime is both the promised land, and a mine field. It’s a treacherous dance of dangling over the edge of sanity while screaming the phrases, “BRUSH. YOUR. TEEEEETH!” and “PJs. NOW!”

Story time is mostly forgotten. It used to be chapters in fiction books without pictures. Now half the time they are allowed to give up story time if they want to watch an episode of Teen Titans. (have you seen this show? If you haven’t, it’s basically made for the parents who watch television with their kids. It is not a chore.)

Discipline: If you do something to piss me off, you will lose an entire day of games. It will happen usually around bedtime and be in effect for the following day. By 3pm the next day if you’ve not done anything too heinous like set your sister on fire, you will most likely get your game privileges back. It will be stealth, however, in the form of “Yes you may go to (so and so’s) house and that is the ONLY place you are allowed to play games.”

3 hours later he comes back happy, I’m happy, the neighbor’s kid is happy, it’s a win-win.

I may have big plans to make a pot roast for dinner. If by 2pm the temperature in our non-airconditioned house reaches anywhere above 83, I will be ordering pizza. Left overs take on a whole new life form. There are whole evenings set up like a fancy buffet, only it’s actually leftovers you pick from.

And any fun-loving, light-hearted wife bot I may have residing deep deeeeep down in my soul has been devoured by the irritated, always nagged and rapid-fire-questioned sweaty, un makeuped Momster that takes over in August.

I nearly de-spined my husband last weekend when, for the hundredth time, I was the one to get up and deal with the kids in the morning. (after early-rising grandma greets and manages them) I woke up and stood over his snoring body imagining all the words I could carve into him with dull crayons.

So yea… August mom. She tries, but she’s very comfortable with her boundaries and she understands once those perimeters are breached, there is no coming back. Everything is about convenience, ease, and cooperation. There is still a glimmer of hope in her eyes because the God-blessed promised land of September is at the end of the alcohol-lined, take-out littered tunnel. We know we can get there if they would just stop bickering and arguing!

Hang in there!!

28 days to go ….. Hmmm… methinks that is not a coincidence!

Here is the difference between dating and marriage.

When you cook for your boyfriend and he finds a hair in the food, he may be horrified or grossed out, but he hides it. He does not want to call attention to a potentially embarrassing situation.

When your husband finds a hair in the food it is held up, pointed out & identified right then and there…and then he finishes dinner.

Why? Because the next time she wants to bitch at him about something, this will not be on the list.

Brownie points were earned this day and it will be duly noted. It shall be etched on the wall beside the kids’ height measurements for all time!

#truestory #stirfrylocks

My husband and I purchased a camp site.

“A camp site, you say?”

Indeed. A campsite. It’s located in a private membership based park and it’s ours whenever we want it, and for however long we want to stay. There are facilities there for swimming, a mess hall, activity center, on and on and on. Last weekend was our maiden camping voyage. We had to settle our new travel trailer into it’s new home and hook everything up and basically set up camp permanently. Someone had the bright idea to take the kids.

Oh. My. God. The bickering and the complaining and the whining and the overall terrible behavior was completely over the top. We only stayed one night. We packed it all in and headed home with our monsters.

After a day of penance, I decided not to stay home today and be driven crazy by my bored children, so I took them to the local aquatic center. The facility is brand new and has not yet had a chance to accumulate the mildew and mold and chipped tiles and toe nails that most surely have. (I’m looking at you, Great Wolf Lodge!) My son had a field trip here for his last day of school and has wanted to return ever since.

Today was the day!

Truthfully, it began pretty fun. We started off in the “lazy river” – aka Lord of the Flies Pool. It was all elbows, noodles, and swift current. Next was the plain pool where you go to catch your breath and dodge the pee.

This place has one mega water slide. My daughter wanted to try it and of course my son did not. I went up the spiral staircase noticing that I was the only person above 13 in line. There was a posted height requirement, but no weight limit. This tube was decidedly small, and I was regretting the joke I made before going in about the headlines later that night: “Fat lady trapped in water slide tube had to be rescued by helicopter as horrified children looked on, angry they were robbed of their fun day.”

I asked the attendant if I was too big and she sweetly pretended ignorance and assured me I was not. However, sitting down at the opening, I was unable to remain sitting as I entered the tube. Laying back was the only option.

Exiting the slide provided a nice wave pool for the swimmers and a near enema for myself. I noticed how close my head came to the bottom of the 3ft 6inch pool at the bottom and vowed not to give a repeat performance…..

My daughter had a blast and immediately wanted to go again. Up we went, and down we came. It was a lot of fun, but three times was my limit. After that, she was brave enough to go herself.

The whole thing was quite fun until my son tore a toe nail in the lazy river. By the end of the hour and 45 minute time period you pay for, I was sick of dodging elbows and brats and my daughter’s constant stream of panic that her loose tooth had come out.

Time to exit stage left.

The whole walk to the car was bickering bitching and moaning.

In other news, sign ups were made for swim lessons and YMCA camp !! I cannot wait for those blissfully bicker-free moments!!!

Summer break. Great, right? Sleeping in, quality time, no schedules, no demands….

Bull$h1t.

Beyond week 1 or 2, it’s all bullpucky.

Most smart moms schedule camps and fun and paid activities. This cheap mom opted to keep her $400. (what it would cost one kid each one week of some sort of summer camp activity for 2-4hrs/day) Joke’s on me.

I’ve had to cut back one volunteer day at the parrot sanctuary because alas, leaving the kids home alone would be like a cage match and i’m not quite ready for the oasis of prison yet. I decided to drag them with me just one day per week so I didn’t have to up my vodka intake. I tried to make it interesting by allowing them the opportunity to make a little money by helping with the jobs at Zazu’s. I get nothing because i’m a volunteer, but somehow the rugrats can make some dough?!

However, it all fell apart by the end of the day today. In their defense, it is quite baffling why a mom would dare annoy the video game gods by ripping two of their servants from the screens and force them into society where manners and very light labor and socialization is expected. What a steaming pile of crap! How dare that mother expect three whole hours of interaction with the live world?! And three whole times they’ve had to go so far! They should received a gold controller for all of their sacrifice, by George!!

Today was going alright… no devices were had so helping out was almost a choice…. almost. My daughter is usually quite happy to help, actually, but my mistake came in having them do a task side by side. I know. Rookie mistake. I left the room dividers and blinders at home, so I expected each of them to sweep a whopping ten square foot strip of floor perpendicular to each other.

Monster.

Mayhem ensued in the form of shoving, back slapping, and retaliatory punching. I mean come on, mom! “He swept his pile into my pile!!” The nerve.

So this little scene cost them their chump change, and also games for the day back at home. I left announcing today’s birth control was provided by yours truly. “You’re welcome.”

Now as any parent worth their alcohol knows, taking away screen time of any kind is really a punishment for all.

I pulled out a recipe/activity I had wanted to try for a bit. We decided chocolate covered bananas would be a fun project. … because i’m obviously out of my mind. I actually had the ingredients – something abnormal for sure – so we got to work.

Do not do this. Never do this activity!! It’s completely useless! We had frozen bananas and we had room temp bananas. Neither one coated well with the melted chocolate/coconut oil mix. I checked multiple recipes to make sure this wasn’t some alien intervention.

We had toothpicks, so I did the banana slice idea rather than the entire fruit. I did try half a banana to see if that worked any better… it didn’t.

After 27 paper towels, one spoon, 25 toothpicks, one cookie sheet, one cutting board, one sharp knife and a lot of sweat and tears, we managed two bananas worth of dessert. I have no idea how they turned out because I’m actually allergic to bananas and I’m borderline diabetic so I am trying not to eat chocolate.

But what a fun, magical, educational, bonding experience!
(Don’t do it!!!)

Bananas 

Okay, nearly midnight now and we’ve at least managed food shopping and some trailer prep. My kids are excited, my husband is now snoring, and i’m in bed running down a list of what I didnt get done. I usually prep most of the food.

Guess what? I didnt do it this time.

Guess what? We’re still going and i’ll cook it there like a pro. (See: i’ll burn it there using new fandangled trailer stove top/oven I dont actually know how to operate yet) 

Seriously, I have barely figured out my convection oven at home. The travel trailer kitchen is like cooking a meal in a dollhouse. 

But it will be great, we will love it, and who doesnt love a meal when you get to burn the dish after?! Go pyro camp! 

On a totally unrelated note, you know how after you’ve been with your significant other for a while you notice how your moods can even out and somehow merge together, compensating for the spouse who is in a less-than-perky mood resulting in a day ending with unicorns and rainbows and a mutual respect for one another? 

No? Me either. Here’s hoping last minute camping prep and frazzled packing does not end our marriage – or his life. 

This post brought to you by Prozac, Vodka, and your friendly local Attorney 

😳🤦🏻‍♀️😎