How Summer Vacation is like a Zombie Apocalypse

Parents are feeling ill at ease and restless. It’s coming. The end is nigh. For some, it’s already here. It’s spreading across the nation. Soon we’ll all be swarmed and overrun by hungry hordes of (sanity) killers. Neighbor pitted against neighbor for survival, or at least for a parking spot in the shade. It’s summer, y’all. Otherwise known as The End of Days.

How Summer is like a Zombie Apocalypse

 

Mother’s Day gifts I didn’t want

It’s been eventful. First, on Saturday, this:Luke broke his arm

That’s Luke getting a cast on his broken arm. He fell off our slide in an ill-conceived attempt at slide surfing. Our swing set is clearly out to get us. Might be time for an exorcism. The poor child was so brave, but the cast makes him miserable. As he cried fresh tears at the news that he’d need a cast for 5-6 weeks, the first thing he said was, “Oh no! And just in time for Mother’s Day too!” He didn’t want to ruin my day.

But, of course, he didn’t ruin Mother’s Day. He didn’t sleep well because of his arm and he apparently gave up on it at some point during the four o’clock hour. But he didn’t wake us. He wanted to let me sleep in. And he wanted to make me breakfast in bed. With his left hand, he made me a Nutella sandwich, on a heel of bread.

He somehow carried it upstairs on our heavy wooden chopping board, one-handed and quietly. He sat in his room and waited. Around 5:30 we heard him whimpering. He tried to stifle his misery so as not to wake us, but he was just so sad that he broke his arm.

Mother's Day Breakfast in Bed

I ate my heel sandwich, which was accompanied by girl snuggles and boy reading me a story, and it was the best heel sandwich I ever had. (This is not a rave review of heel sandwiches.) As moms everywhere know, I ate that heel sandwich despite the fact that I know exactly how clean the hand is that made it. (Three cheers for a robust immune system!)

Afterwards, I came downstairs and found a beast. We’re trying to get rid of the groundhog that lives under our shed. But instead we keep catching other things. I’ve caught countless squirrels, the neighbor’s cat, and two raccoons.

So we piled in the car for a drive to a nearby, but not too nearby, non-residential area perfect for critter release.
Caught a raccoon in a have a heart trap

I got the priceless Mother’s Day gift of showing my kids that moms can be very brave.

Caught a beast!
Releasing from a have a heart trap

After all that excitement, I was happy to spend the rest of the day lazily hanging out and reminding Luke that his arm is broken so slide surfing is probably not a great idea.

It could be worse. Instead of an arm and a raccoon, it could have been a leg and a skunk.

Stop Sally

I love the special magic that happens when a kid’s smartness intersects with her stupidness. I’m not saying my children are stupid people- they’re just children and all children are stupid people. So, yes, I guess I am saying that my children are stupid people. Anyway, my daughter loves to write.

Most of her writing is just senseless scribbles because she’s four years old, but she can write her name and suddenly can also write the word “stop.” This means that there are notes all over the house where she is apparently telling herself off.

Stop Sally

She tells herself off for banging on the bathroom door while I’m in there when she slides a note underneath that says, “Stop Sally.” Uh, yeah, that’s what I’ve been saying.

She tells herself off for calling to us after bedtime when she comes downstairs and hands me a “Stop Sally” note.

It’s perfect really. I can save my breath. I just need to teach her to write “Stop Luke” notes.