If this post was a sponsored post, it would be sponsored by a company that manufactures megaphones or a store that sells earphones. Seriously, folks this has been the summer of kids yelling, mom yelling, dad yelling, and the fish yelling. I am assuming the fish are yelling since we can’t hear ’em through the water. Does anyone make a fish megaphone? How about a fish translator?
Now, I am exaggerating a little. I am not yelling at kids while they are sleeping. I don’t yell at kids while they are at swim practice. I leave that to the coaches. :-p But, when we are home or in the car…
At home, the kids are starting to get on each other’s nerves. I cleaned out the basement playroom with the help of my minions. The playroom is ready for occupants. I only have one slight problem none of the children want to step foot in the playroom. All three would prefer to do any of the following activities:
- run through the house
- run through any area where anyone is tryi8ng to do something quietly…read a book, work on the computer, nap
- run through the house shooting Nerf guns
- run through the house scattering Googly Bands
- run through the dining room office while I am on a call
- run through the bedroom office while my husband is on a call
- argue loudly over why someone should trade their Cowboy Googly Band for a Pirate one when anyone is on a call
- make an impassioned plea to be allowed to stay up late because it is Tuesday and the summer…Go to bed, kid.
- continue making pleas about the injustices of bedtime to a parent or two who just simply need the kids to go to bed
- and the piece de resistance…kids arguing with each other over which is the most preferable chair in the kitchen. I. Give. Up.
Ay Caramba! I do not know how my mother managed to survive the summer with my sister and I at home. We never went to camps or attended classes. It was three months of very little planned. The weekly or twice weekly trip to the pool at the garden apartment complex near our house. The occasional friend over to play. The weekend trips to Cheasequake Park in NJ.
How did my mother manage my sister and I over the long, hot summers? Some of the summers we returned to England to stay with my grandmother. Four words — Small House. Loud Kids.
How did our mothers deal with us? Most summers I played at home, played at the pool, and that was it. Was my mother yelling at us all the time? Did she feel as relieved as I do when the kids are in bed for the night? Note: My husband does most of the bedtimes, but I get a vicarious thrill when he comes downstairs after everyone is in bed…not asleep but in bed.
My kids have activities and things they need to do, but there is no end to the bickering. Did I spend the summer arguing? I have no recollection. I do recall spending many hours digging a hole in the dirt with neighbors. I also rode my bike. Played at a playground until all hours.
Maybe that’s it. Our mothers weren’t bothered by kids arguing because we were outside playing all day and night. Now, if only neighbors would move in who had kids…