Bye Bye, Quarantine Summer

I feel like I know what you’re thinking. Is this going to be one of those things that starts off whining about the summer we spent basically stuck at home with kids, but then ends on an uplifting note after seeing the positive side of things?

Well…I was planning on whining from beginning to end. But the uplifting part does sound nice. So let’s just see how this goes.

No promises.

Getting Ready For the Backyard Outing

I should have taken advantage of nice weather in my earlier years because I now know that nothing ruins you soaking in the rays like little kids do. In theory, or as an outsider watching other parents do it, it SEEMS like fun. It seems like the right thing to do.

Let me just take the kids out to play for a bit.

Fresh air, some exercise, turning off the TV – Overall excellent parenting. I’m feeling good about it.

10:30am – Poke my head outside to see if they need light sweaters or socks. Neither. Yay! That saves me some energy that I’ll expend shortly.

I’m trying to find three pairs of shoes which never stay put because one of the kids likes to wear them on his hands and explore them with his tongue. Gross! Meanwhile they’re barreling around like monkeys, and chanting.

Water! Snacks! Chalk! Play-doh!

While in the Backyard

My eldest can finally muster enough strength to open the sliding door. But not close it. I sit down with my coffee. He opens the door. The dog escapes. I have to get him so he doesn’t shimmy out under the spruce hedges lining our backyard – him being Toby, the dog. I send the dog back in and close the door.

The sliding door opens…

Toby escapes…

That cycle happens about four times.

Meanwhile, two of my boys are picking up stones and other objects including their shoes and launching them over our glass fence into the pool.

So naturally, I start yelling. I had already started at this point but only just now introducing the yelling to my story.

Earlier yelling was kicked off by the balcony door and dog cycle and perpetuated by throwing, eating, and fighting over the sidewalk chalk.

There are stones, toys, and shoes in the pool so I’m just by the pool now going fishing.

My third son is plucking my potted flowers one by one and tasting them. I put down the pool net, trying to stop him while the others, one barefoot, run through the gazebo pulling on the mosquito nets. I leave Thumper with his flowers to go discipline the others, and while momentarily unattended he initiates supervisory duties of my coffee mug which he picks up to examine and spills all over himself. Don’t worry, it was cold by that point so I wasn’t going to drink it anyway.

Since he’s covered in coffee, I have to take him inside to change him. I know I won’t be coming back out at this point because I’ve already screamed at every corner of my backyard and bless my neighbors uncomplaining hearts, but I think they’ve endured enough.

So I call the other two to come inside and they crawl out from under the spruce trees covered in dirt. My dirt-decked duo and coffee-covered flower-eater are all hysterically crying.

Three outfit changes and a box of kleenex later it’s 10:55am – I haven’t had a single sip of coffee and I need a shower.

A positive thing I can think of aside from the creation of special memories, which let’s be honest, are at least humourous in retrospect, is that I got some exercise and possibly a small tan or at least some Vitamin D. Feeling uplifted yet? Hang on!

The Park

Park outings include sand in someone’s face, and while shoes stay on (usually), shirts get half pulled off as we drag them home screaming.

Passing by some other families with their calmer, older kids. Parents looking at us. Not judging. They’ve been there, knowingly asking us if ours are two years old. Yes, yes they are. Well except the four year old who we are trying to pretend is not ours. But he’s following us around, so we are like fine, he’s ours too.

Everything always ends the same way – wiping up their tear and snot stained faces, swearing up and down we will never leave the house again.

…And repeat.

Where Are You, Snow

That’s why in the middle of winter, with secret delight and relief, I tell the kids we can’t go outside. I cocoon myself in a blanket on the couch, gaze gratefully at the four feet of snow stacked against my sliding door, and take a sip of my hot coffee.

I’m waiting for you, Winter. I’m ready for you.