Oh What Do You Do in the Summertime

We are one and a half days into summer break, and I've already exhausted all of my "keep them busy" resources.

Yesterday morning I went for a walk at 5:40, and when I got back an hour later, everyone was awake watching TV. I let them keep watching until 8:00. Then we had breakfast, I made them do their chores and get ready for the day, we stripped their beds and did a few loads of laundry, and they read for 20 minutes.

I made my kids a summer checklist of things they need to do every morning as well as a chart for their daily afternoon chores. When they saw the list, they lost their marbles.

"Don't you know it's summer? Summer is supposed to be fun! We aren't supposed to work during the summer."

Why, yes! I'm making my kids do terrible things all summer like get dressed, make their beds, and brush their teeth.

The horror!

(Actually, the real "horror" is the fact that I have to write things like this on a list in the first place. Why can't they just brush their teeth on instinct?)

After a morning of unfair hygiene tasks, I made lunch - homemade mac & cheese. I add this detail not to brag - "oh look at me! I'm the mom who makes homemade mac & cheese all summer" - but because I want you to know that lunch took an hour to make. I did this intentionally to fill some time.

After lunch we went to the library, got Slurpees, did perler bead art, and blew up the inflatable pool.

At that point... it was 2:00 p.m., and I was starting to question the validity of the eight clocks in my home.

The kids played in the pool for an hour, did more perler bead art, did their afternoon chores, and then watched two more hours of TV. After Scotty got home, they alternated between watching TV and playing in the pool until it was time to go to bed.

The day was so incredibly long. Today has been the same, except there has been more fighting (which is hard to believe), so I've spent more time administering discipline. Nicky and Daisy have been awarded early bed time, and they've had to go to the "Sorry Stair" multiple times.

This evening, Nicky and Scotty have scouts, and my girls have already started making demands for a Girls' Night. All that's been asked of me is to let them eat giant lollipops, go to an ice cream place, build a fort, paint, do water balloons, and learn French.

{Once Upon a Girls' Night}

And after a day of having all of them in my personal space since 6:30 a.m., I can't think of anything else I'd rather do with my night.

Je suis fatigue.

It's Been a Good Weekend (and ten other random facts)

Fact #1: My kids are officially out of school for the summer. Since school ended and then we headed right into a holiday weekend, I'm not mentally considering it "summer break" until Tuesday.

I'm scared.

Fact #2: On Saturday morning, my kids were all awake by 6:02. Scotty was gone for a while in the morning, and by 9:00 a.m. I felt as if it should be dinner time. I've got some long days ahead of me.

Fact #3: Last week, Daisy and Eva had two nights of dance concerts. Nicky always comes along (by choice) for both nights. You've heard of "Dance Moms." I want to start a reality show called "Dance Brothers." Nicky has a lot to say. A lot. I spent most of the concert telling him to shush. No commentary. No singing. Just shush!

Fact #4: It's pretty hard to convince my 11-year-old son to shush during a dance concert when there's an old dude behind us drumming on the bottom of his metal auditorium seat through every song.

"Why can't I sing? How come that guy gets to make noise?"

"Because his mother isn't here to offer him loving guidance. Look how lucky you are to have me!"

(Seriously, though, that was incredibly annoying).

Fact #5: I've realized in recent months that I eat like a dude. I can't help it, I like manly food. I often look around my food places and realize it's me and a bunch of male construction workers. Then I smile and take a bite of my philly cheese steak sandwich.

Fact #6: As I head into summer break with my kids, I feel like I need to create some sort of structure for them. But I can't. I don't have it in me. I just have to take it day by day. I know I'm going to make mistakes this summer. I might yell too often or let my kids watch too much TV. We might fail to read, We'll probably eat too many potato chips, and we'll very likely get sunburned.

I don't want to spend the whole summer beating myself up over my failures, so I'm trying to find a way to celebrate the successes - however few and far between they are.

Fact #7: For the entire school year, Nicky has worn Hawaiian shirts and gym shorts. He made sure to wear the same Hawaiian shirt on the last day of school that he wore on the first day of school. Unfortunately, it got torn the week before school ended, so I'm going to make him get rid of it. He doesn't know it yet, but we are going camping soon, and I'm going to make him retire it in the fire. He's going to be so mad.

Fact #8: Nicky has been begging me to let him have a "bald haircut." He's been very persistent about it, and the last time I cut his hair, he sobbed and sobbed because I didn't buzz it. We finally compromised, and I told him he could shave off all his hair for the summer. Our neighbor offered to give him a free buzz for the summer because he complained to her about how I wouldn't let him be bald. He's redeeming his free haircut this week.

Hold me.

Fact #9: For the summer, I wanted to drastically reduce my use of social media to help with my depression. I deleted Instagram from my phone and won't be using it at all this summer, and for Facebook, I decided to do a "No Scroll Summer." I will still use Facebook for a few things such as sharing my blog posts and communicating with some select groups, but I will not scroll!

(If I announce it here, I have to stick to it, right?)

Fact #10: I need to go to bed, but I've reached that point where going to bed is too much work, so I just stay awake. 

Depression, Denial, & a Doctor

About a year and a half ago, I wrote this post about some of my experiences with depression. I've struggled with depression off and on for most of my adult life. I have a hard time calling it what it is, though. Even though I've come in and out of it, it's still onerous for me to think it's depression. It feels so deeply like a spiritual problem, and I have the tendency to place the blame on myself.

My "depression" (even now, I'm finding it difficult to name it) manifests itself in the form of anger & irritation, a low sense of self-worth, fatigue & low motivation, and spiritual aversion. Only when I'm on the other side am I able to see it for what it really is. I'm currently experiencing all of these things, and I'm half objective about it and half in complete denial. The only reason I'm half-way able to admit it's depression is that yesterday, a thought came into my mind, "You know what this is - you've experienced this before. Call your doctor."

The funny thing is that I just filled out a depression survey at my new doctor last Tuesday, and I "decided" before I filled it out that I don't have depression, so I filled it out as if I don't have depression. Then in the comments section I wrote, "I've been treated for depression and anxiety in the past, but I don't currently need treatment."

Denial.

I don't want to do it. I don't want to be a person with depression.

{I'm not too depressed to enjoy a good giph}

I don't know if it will do me any good (in fact, I am in a mind space where I truly don't believe it will help - I remember feeling this in times past) but I'm going to the doctor in the morning. I'll start medication... again... and despite my lack of faith in it, maybe it will help me get to a place where I can help myself (non-medicinal routes aren't realistic right now because I have no motivation to work toward healing).

I'm not sure why I'm blogging about it. Somehow it makes me accountable, I guess. And it gives me something to look back on later to see if I'm improving. If I read this in six weeks, and I don't feel better, then I know I need to explore other solutions.

Pancakes

When your husband is undergoing a special procedure, you might want to make him some special pancakes.

And when you're kids ask about the special pancakes... you might want to tell them they're balloons.

The Truth About Potty Training

A few weeks ago, Eva reached the milestone of being "daytime" potty trained. She still has to wear diapers at night, but our diaper use has gone from eight a day to one a day, and I appreciate the financial benefits. The problem is... having a potty trained child isn't all it's cracked up to be. People romanticize the idea, but honestly, it's a royal pain in the tush. All I do these days is deal with potty-ing. Here are some of my potty stories as of late:

Watch Your Step

On Eva's first journey out of the house sans diaper, I wasn't sure how she'd do in a public restroom. We went to Smith's, and immediately as we walked in, she said she needed to go potty. I took her to the restroom, and she refused to go inside. She said the toilets were scary (this is always a possibility with children, as you probably know. Some are just downright terrified of the large toilet and/or the sound of the flush).

I took her in the restroom THREE TIMES while we were there, and with every amount of bribery I could muster, I still could not get her to pee in the potty. Finally I decided to check out and see if I could get her to use the little IKEA potty that I keep in the stow-n-go of my van.

While I was checking out (curse you, self-check-out!), Eva peed all over the floor, and let's just say... it wasn't a small amount. She just stood there in the puddle holding herself and crying. It pooled around both our shoes and all around the shopping cart wheels.

I had to go tell the employee that my child peed on the floor. She was pretty chill about it, in the beginning. She came over with a wad of paper towels and wiped it up... kind of. There was still pee all around the wheels of my shopping cart and all over Eva's and my shoes, so with every step we took, we spread the pee.

Then the employee crouched down to Eva and said, "It's okay to have accidents sometimes, but tell your mom to take you to the restroom next time!"

And then the employee went right back to helping people with their groceries. Didn't wash her hands... didn't use any type of cleaning product on the pee.

And I wheeled my cart with the pee-soaked wheels out the door, leaving streaks all along the way.

The IKEA Potty

Like I said, I keep a little IKEA potty in the stow-n-go of my van. It's very convenient for emergency situations. I've found myself in at least 15 "emergency situations" in the past three weeks. I tell you no lie. I have to let Eva pee in the potty in my van at least once a day during car pool or while running errands. When she tells me she needs to pee, she is a ticking time bomb. Since the Smith's incident, I've learned that I have precisely three minutes from the time she says she needs to pee until she actually does.

All Done

Since we've been embarking on the Great Public Restroom Tour of 2018, I've taken the opportunity to go to the bathroom, myself (might as well take care of business if I'm in there anyway, amiright?) On a few occasions, Eva has decided she can't wait for me, so she unlocks the stall door, and if it's an outward swinging door, she takes off. I keep getting stranded on the toilet, and sometimes I make eye contact with the strangers outside the door. Every single one of my children has done this to me. EVERY DANG ONE.

Wow, That's Fancy Stuff

Fortunately, Eva's fear of public restrooms was short-lived. I don't have the patience to deal with that kind of stuff, so I'm glad she got over it. Now she's fascinated with public restrooms and wants to check them all out.

The first time she experienced an automatic toilet, it blew her mind. I thought it would scare her, but she looked at me, wide-eyed, and said, "Wow, Mom! This toilet flushes all by himself!"

The Line

About once a week, I meet my friend Christie for lunch. Last week we were meeting at Cafe Rio, and I got there before Christie. The line was getting long, so I went ahead and got in line to hold us a place. About five minutes into our wait, Eva started saying she needed to pee (remember how I only have three minutes?) I kept trying to convince her that she could wait, but she started holding herself, so I knew there was no way we were going to make it. I had to get out of line and take her to the bathroom, and when I came back, the line was out the door. I couldn't get back in it. I just couldn't. So I had to surrender and apologize to Christie (Christie is a trooper, though so she met me at a park and brought the food).

At the Park

I took my kids potty at Cafe Rio, but that didn't stop them from needing to poop at the park.

There are no restrooms at the park, so I was desperate. I had the little potty, but I'd never used it for poop. I had to think fast... how can I make poop happen at the park without it being horrible? I ended up lining the potty with a grocery bag and having my kids poop in it.

Um... yep.

Two days later, we had a repeat incident, but that time I didn't have a grocery bag so we used a hamburger wrapper... and then I disposed of the contents in a Happy Meal box.

Don't judge me.

There is nothing glamorous about the newly potty trained.

In the past week I've had to shampoo my mattress, Eva's mattress, the car seat, and the couch (twice) (these accidents happen when she naps). I have to take Eve to the bathroom everywhere we go, sometimes two or three times in a half hour.

She throws a fit at night because she doesn't want us to put a diaper on her, so we have to wait until she falls asleep and we can change her. Then in the morning, she doesn't want to change back into underwear, so I have to chase her down and steal her diaper off her body.

Overall, I'm grateful we've accomplished potty training, but I think I know what the theme of my summer is going to be: Creative Bathrooming.

Weekend Journey

I love getting out of town. It doesn't have to be very far or very fancy. Sometimes I just need to leave. This weekend was such a time, so Scotty and I planned a last-minute trip to Vernal - which is about three hours east(ish) of Salt Lake.

We left early Saturday morning and, after a few food and toilet-related stops, we rolled into town around 11:00. We headed to McConkie Ranch where we went on a little hike to see some petroglyphs. Three of the children were in good spirits. The other one... well... it's nothing new. We're happy with 75%.

There's a little shack at the trail head where you can sign in, leave a donation, and hang a post-in note. It also has a fridge full of soda you can buy for a dollar (honors-style). The petroglyphs are on private property, so it's really nice of this family to allow access for hikers.

{Nicky's note}

After our hike, we checked into our hotel and then we headed to Dinosaur National Monument. We took the tram to the quarry and saw the dinosaur bones. We went to Vernal when Nicky was a baby, and the quarry was shut down (it was closed from 2006-2011), so I was excited to get to go this time.

We bought the kids the National Parks Passports - which we should have done a long time ago because we've already been to a lot of places and missed out on the stamps. I guess we'll just have to go back!

We didn't realize that the town of Vernal shuts down at 5:00 pm and all day Sunday, so we didn't get to go to any of the dinosaur museums. In hindsight, we should have gone to those first and saved the petroglyphs for Sunday. Oh well.

We stopped by the Vernal temple and attempted a family picture.

Families can be together forever and stuff. This is when the kids kind of hit their breaking point. They had been shockingly good despite the overload of activities, and dinner time triggered the end.

We went to dinner at a place called Country Grub.

We went back to the hotel and took the kids to the pool. It was the slipperiest pool floor I've ever walked on, so it didn't take long for one of the kids to fall and get hurt.

Bed time came along, we slept, and then all the kids were up jumping around by 5:30 Sunday morning (we always ask for a room on the first floor when we stay at a hotel, and I specifically mention my bouncy children).

On Sunday we drove out by Steinaker Reservoir and hiked to Moonshine Arch. It was a great hike - easy enough for the kids but challenging enough to burn a few calories. It also had very little traffic, so we had the arch to ourselves.

After the hike, we hung out at a park for a while where I tried to force my children to do bar tricks like I did as a child. This was when I realized that I have ultimately failed my children. They are completely incapable - it's like they are broken - and now I can't stop mumbling, "Kids these days..." because, really, KIDS THESE DAYS!

Vernal made a great overnight trip. Our kids were really good. I mean, there were meltdowns and fights and stuff, but on the behavior scale where 1 is "they were perfect angels" and 10 is "we left them on the side of the road," they were a solid 3 where on most vacations they are a 7-8. I'm just going to count my blessings and not assume this is permanent.

Life With The Girls

The other day I wrote about Zoe and Eva trying to take over our bedroom by moving their stuff into our drawers little by little. The next night, I had to take Nicky to the doctor, and while I was gone, they moved the rest of their stuff into our room.

They emptied all of their dresser drawers and put their stuff in backpacks and suitcases and loaded it all into our room along with most of their toys.

They were so proud.

And since they are so little, and it was bed time, all we could do was make them take it back in their room and go to bed, so everything ended up on the floor.

Yesterday I had to sort through every backpack and suitcase and put back all their clothes (have I mentioned that Zoe has a backpack obsession? She has like 12 backpacks, and she keeps convincing people to buy her more). In addition to the backpacks and suitcases, they also stuffed clothes inside toys, like the Doc McStuffins dog carrier and the Melissa & Doug shopping baskets.

I'm still not done cleaning it up.

But this experience made me realize something... MY DAUGHTERS ARE CRAZY.

And because of life circumstances, I am home alone with them a lot, and as soon as Scotty and Nicky are out of the house, they think it's party time. "Girls' Night! Girls' Night!" they chant, and then, without even consulting me, they come up with a list of 30 Girls' Night activities, and I have to crush their little spirits by telling them that we're not going to plant flowers, ride bikes, eat ice cream, put on make-up, and bake cookies to deliver to "everyone in our town" because we need to take baths, and by the time I replace the damaged subfloor and water-logged sheet rock that results from their splashing, it will be June.

I have been known to beg Scotty to not leave me alone with the girls. Most of the time, I don't have a choice.

Last night we went to my grandma's house to mow her lawn, and she gave the girls some real flowers so they could make flower arrangements (one of their many messy hobbies). On the way home, Zoe started the "Girls' Night!" chant and listed off all the things she was going to do at home. "We are going to go home and have a Girls' Night and put on dresses and decorate the house and have a dance party."

I compromised... You may put on dresses and dance, but you may not decorate!

When we got home, Zoe chanted "Girls' Night!" some more (even though Scotty was home) and then instructed everyone that it was time to "get ready." Then she started frantically running around the house yelling, "Mom! I need tape!"

TAPE!

The girl is always looking for tape, and I'm seriously considering becoming a tape-free household because... MY DAUGHTERS ARE CRAZY.

I asked her why she needed tape...

"TO TAPE FLOWERS TO THE WALL!!!"

I reminder her that there was to be NO DECORATING.

"I'm not decorating, I'm just taping flowers all over the walls to make our whole house pretty for our dance party."

Sigh.

I put my foot down. There would be no taping flowers to the wall. So Zoe found a loophole, of course, and stuck flowers in every nook and cranny: in the piano keys, in the bird cage, in the computer armoire, in between books...

I can't win. I can make a "no decorating" rule, and I can hide all the tape, and I will still lose every time.

I love them, I do. But they exhaust me. They're messy, demanding, and full of big ideas. They have many traits that will serve them well later in life when they are better capable of cleaning up their own messes.