Honest First Impressions of Summer Vacation

We've reached an awkward stage in our household. You see, last week my kids finished their final days of school and turned the corner into summer vacation. Meanwhile, I'm teaching two classes and facing a looming deadline for an article I'm writing for work. Suffice to say, their expectations are clashing with my reality.

It's kind of like this:

My kids: Mom! Mom! Mom! Mom! Mom! Let's do fun things. FUN THINGS! All the time, perpetually, because we're on vacation and we're so excited! In fact, we're going to wake up before 7 so we can start our days of leisure early. Let's have friends over all the time! Can they stay for dinner? Can they sleep over? Let's go to a movie! The pool! An amusement park!

Me: It's not time for fun yet.

My kids, undeterred:  Let's eat Popsicles seven times a day. And go out for ice cream at night! Can you set up the Slip-and-Slide? How about S'mores? You just have to start a fire, that's all. You can start a fire now, right?

Me: I am neither mentally nor logistically prepared for what currently is happening to me. 

My kids: What about snow cones?

I'm not sure why I'm shocked by any of this. I visibly saw the end of the school year approaching. I crossed out days on the calendar that led to the block where, in my own handwriting, it read "Last Day of School." I observed tell-tale signs, like how their backpacks overflowed with the contents of their desks and piles of end-of-year papers. And yet, I'm shocked.

It's like my conscious mind recognized that summer vacation was about to happen, but my subconscious had suppressed what it's like when kids are so extraordinarily ever-present. But now that this awareness is resurfacing, I have two primary thoughts:

(1) In just a few short years, my kids won't be home 24/7 for eleven weeks straight. This is one of those "18 summers" before they head into college, step into their futures, and launch their young adult lives. I should treasure these moments. Hold them close. Take mental snapshots.

(2) Wait, what? These kids are going to be home 24/7? For eleven weeks straight? Jesus take the wheel.

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