I was setting up to write a post about our home-cation until I remembered that I kind of just wrote one of those.
Holy holy, I am ready for school to start. I have had fun, I really have. We have done some awesome things and as we start the preliminary investigations for his fifth (FIFTH, PEOPLE!) birthday party, I am reminded about how short time really is and how few our days like this really are.
The last time I [semi] publicly complained about all the constant kid-time, a friend of mine messaged with a note about enjoying all the precious moments and how so soon they will be gone — not a message that’s unfamiliar to me. It seems that all parents of older children want to tell parents of younger children about how the younger days are fleeting and that we should stop bemoaning the lack of free time we have and try to soak up all the wonder of youth. Or something.
I rarely receive this messages well, mostly because they always come on the heels of a complaint, which happens when I am at the very end of my rope. It’s like eating seven cakes and feeling like you want to vomit and then having someone tell you that you should eat more cake and stop complaining about it because someday there will be no more cake. Or something. I mean, who wants to hear about more cake when you feel like ralphing up seven cakes?
I got the message, though (this time and all the times it’s been given to me in the past) and I know that I will miss these days we have now. So, I tried very hard on this staycation to be present, to be playful, to give him a fun two weeks with his mama, despite what I have been feeling (which has been a fairly even mix of exhaustion, illness, frustration, and sensory overload.) I mean, this is not to say that I haven’t lost my cool a little bit or that I haven’t made some choices that I wished I hadn’t, but overall, I am happy with our home-cation. It was exactly as I had imagined it would be and he is happy and smiley and ready — as am I — for the first day of school. (YES.)