The pressure's on

In June, I joked about Mommy Camp and about how it was exhausting.

In. June.

Oh, for God’s sake, it was June, you big baby.

In June, I still had a lot to look forward to with my kids. I had the Fourth of July and the bike parade and the fireworks and the Boston trip and the North Carolina trip and the pottery and the rock hopping in the creek and my in-laws saying, "No, drink your wine and read your book and let us play with the children" all ahead of me. And yet I was complaining.

Fool.

Ignorant fool.

You want to know when running Mommy Camp got stressful? It got stressful in August. When all that fun and traveling was behind us. When all the normal people went away, on vacation. When Whit still worked long hours. When it was just me and the kids.

By August 2, I’d had two mornings during which my computer time was interrupted by two cute little faces looking at me and say, “Mommy? What’s the plan for today?” I had to launch into Mommy Camp agendas.

Now we’ve officially done it all. We’ve done water parks (two different ones). We’ve done putt putt (36 holes at a time). We’ve done slushy stands, ridden bikes, walked around downtown, hit several museums, traveled a ridiculously far distance to sample excellent milkshakes. We’ve done pools and parks and doughnuts and cupcakes. We’ve attended and thrown parties. We’ve lost teeth and been to the state fair. We’ve painted pottery and gone to several different pools and played in the sprinkler and played giant tennis and had sleepovers and pancake and sausage breakfasts and made cakes and cookies. We’ve done bowling and karate and playdates and seen movies and Caroline even got a feather in her hair (which is the most moronic trend she’s ever embraced. Kid looks like a chicken). At one point, I got in a bathtub (dry and clothed) and let the kids scrub my feet and my hands and give me as much of a spa experience as I could get when Suave 3-in-1 Volumizing Hair Treatment for Kids was the luxurious soap.

Again not surprising, I’ve stressed over the plans. "Honey!" I’ll shake Whit as he’s falling asleep. "What can I do with them tomorrow??" He’ll mumble different worthless ideas..."um, shooting range?"...and just fall asleep.

Okay, so the final countdown is here. I can't even let myself get sad that school is starting -- I can't even start to get a little wistful about how much I'll miss them being around all day. Nope, my mission is not yet complete.

Monday is done, even though the big bike ride/lunch outing was aborted when Jack kept crying that somehow his tire and his foot were connecting uncomfortably. But the whole biking/crying/complaining/me sighing process kept us busy for a few hours and counted as an activity, and that was quickly followed by a large playdate involving most of our neighbors.

Oh, the pressure. The insane pressure. We’ve got Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday and Friday. What have we not done? Go karts. They’re an hour away, so that’s really a whole afternoon. One down. Indoor bounce place.
Two down. Two to go. What to do to, what to do? Can’t think. Did we already go to the nature center and learn to identify mold or did I just make that up?

I’m losing my mind. But just four more days.

Then, thank you God, it’s the weekend. No entertainment is needed on the weekends. Whit is built-in entertainment for the kids, because all he has to do is lie on the ground and the kids attack him and wrestle and the dog barks and everyone gets worn out.

And then Monday, school starts.

Me? I might take a day off. I mean seriously. Go for a long run, say "oops" and let the dog run away so he walks himself, not cook a meal, not answer the phone or an email. Just vacate my life for a day.

Ah, who am I kidding? I’d get bored without a plan. The apples don’t fall that far from the tree, after all.