Posted on | May 12, 2011 | 4 Comments
Seems I’m not the only one left disappointed by their Mother’s Day. Friends, blog followers, work colleagues… they all told stories of Hubbys who had uttered similar remarks to mine (“It’s all a big Hallmark holiday” vies for first place with my Hubby’s “Anyway, you’re not my mother” comment). Sigh. Big, big sigh. Shall we start compiling the list now for that lesbian commune in the sun?
Hubby and I did have it out. I told him there would be a pow-wow on Monday night. If he could have caught a plane, train or boat to avoid it he surely would have. Instead he called a few times to say he had lots of work to do. I think he was hoping that if he got home late enough I might have forgotten, but no. Fat chance.
We ironed a few things out and I set a few ground rules, including that Mother’s Day will be celebrated in this household, as will Father’s Day, birthdays, anniversaries and Christmas, regardless of his f***ed up attitude to it all. He squirmed. He suffered. Then, like four-year-old Munchkin, he said, “Can I go now please?” It was apparently enough actual, proper, grown-up conversation, and enough bearing of the soul, to last this just-leave-me-in-my-cubicle-and-don’t-talk-to-me engineer a good few months. He went off and scribbled down some solar inventions instead.
It is almost the summer hiatus. Twelve whole weeks to fill. (Yeh, count ‘em). Munchkin has just a few more days left of preschool, Sweetpea two more weeks of elementary. And then what?
In my dreams we lie in, lounge around reading, take leisurely swims and afternoon siestas, play Snakes and Ladders and all do Wii yoga together, occasionally venturing out to pick ripe tomatoes off the vine or catch a movie matinee performance at the cheap seats. And when we get really bored the three of us will work on the office, where a new desk is needed for Sweetpea and me, and a hideous old pine-panelled cupboard must be pulled out.
But really, who am I kidding? I fear I will not last more than a day without wanting to wade into the pool with large stones in my pockets a la Virginia Woolf. Munchkin’s favoured reading material is currently one of these books with sound-effect buttons: G.I, Joe – An All American Hero. Irritating as hell. I tried to ‘lose’ it so we could read Dr Seuss instead, but he found it. Damn.
Siestas? Forget it. I can nap anytime, anyplace, anywhere (have even been caught taking a power nap in the school parking lot) but my kids will not slumber unless it’s night time. Snakes and Ladders is only fine if you let Sweetpea win regularly and if Munchkin doesn’t get so bored he hits the board and all the pieces go flying. Wii yoga defeats its relaxing purpose when you have kids yelling ‘Can you wipe my bottom PLEASE?” and “Is it snack time yet?” And DIY when it’s triple digits outside is pretty sweaty work.
I am excited about the cheap seats cinema. One of them runs free kids’ movies every day at 10am here in Tucson. We may be there for every performance, regardless of what they’re showing. Although of course I will have to watch too. One time last year I took a flashlight along and tried reading The Help, only to be told off by a parent who said it was distracting.
And they are booked into a few weeks’ each of summer camp, so there’s that. Does it surprise you to hear that I have a calendar for the summer? Yep. Marked with planned getaways and camps, so that I can actually see some light at the end of this long, hot tunnel. Oh, and if you’re planning on leaving a comment along the lines of ‘Oh I just love summer with my kids!’, if you’re one of those parents who shed a tear when they go back to school in August and actually, er, miss having them around, don’t bother. As with the Mother’s Day thang, I only want to hear from the like-minded, the fellow sufferers, the people who adore their kids but thank God for childcare and public schools.