Dropping the Ball on Summer

I dropped the ball on summer this year. Seriously. Best laid plans and all that jazz.

My poor, deprived kids (that’s total sarcasm there; they’re a lot of things, but pathetic they are not). They’ve missed out on so much this summer. I had grand plans of winning the summer, but alas.


Touch-A-Truck? Messy Mania? We didn’t go. It was hot out and story time was inside and air conditioned, so I never even gave them an option.

County fair? They don’t know it’s going on. It’s bloody hot out and I don’t need to eat all that junk food (and Lord knows the only will power I have is the “I will eat it if I see it”). I don’t want to spend a gazillion dollars on overpriced rides that will probably give us tetnus anyway. Sorry, kids.

The movies? We still haven’t seen The Jungle Book or Finding Dory. I kept saying yes, but then…every day lunch and naptime happens. And I lose my motivation. (There has to be some irony to the fact that I snuck out at bedtime last night to go see Bad Moms with a friend though…)


We signed up for the reading programs at the library and Barnes and Noble. “I got this!” I told myself. We read a zillion books every day. Bam! Easy peasy. But after a month I realized that for some reason actually filling out those damn sheets is excruciating: so, nope. No free books for you, kidlets.

All those free concerts at the park? They’re memories we will never have.

I had grand plans of taking them to the swimming pool. Well, it’s August now. Outside of swim lessons, nope. No recreational swimming, sweet dearies.


We will pretend that Mr. B doesn’t ask daily to go to the Children’s Museum, which used to occur every other month until Sweet M was born. Whoops. Next week, buddy. Next week. (Thank God he has no idea when next week actually is). I did send J to the Wonderlab with him once this summer. That’s kinda sorta the same thing. Right?

Summer art camp has come and gone. I told H I would sign her up for it this year. Eep.

I keep telling them we need to be on a media ban. At this point they probably think “ban” is synonymous with “binge” because then I’m all, “gotta put the baby to sleep – PBS, please babysit!”


From all that, I’d say I’m failing summer. Miserably.

Except my kids are incredibly happy. They are playing outside and telling me adventure sotries. They’re being so helpful. Doing their school work daily. Writing stories and building forts. Loving on each other and making music.


So I guess, despite it all, I’m probably actually winning.


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