I find myself at the end of this summer in an emotional catch-22. I totally love my boys, and I love having them home to do fun stuff and hang out and be squished.
But I really have to be truthful sometimes: I am very ready for them to be back in school right now.
End of summer is always the apex of disastrous. The boys have been off schedule for so long, that even the artificial one of the last two weeks of summer is a joke to them, and they are totally helter-skelter. Usually I would be going in to teach twice a week, getting a breath, but the earthquake and hurricane canceled classes. Good for not having to find someone to watch two totally disregulated boys for a couple hours twice a week. Bad for no break from two totally disregulated boys in perpetual Witching Hour for two weeks.
Add to that Andy's new self-expression limit-pressing: smartmouth eye-roller. And Joey's usual echoing of phrases and sounds that may be extremely annoying, like phrases from Annoying Orange or pretending to cry like a baby.
It's a horrible, wrenching, tearing feeling to love your kids so much, and be so very ready for them to go do their own thing, and let you enjoy a moment of quiet. Which will then become an hour of quiet. And by the end of Day One, I will be nearly in tears missing them. Today, I was in tears wishing they would just behave like kids who had just been taken to an awesome pizza lunch, and not two hooligans who had no sense of gratitude in their bodies.
And I'd like to not feel guilty about wishing school would just go ahead and start already, so they can get into their routines and get regulated again.
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