Revision:  Sometimes, just to screw with your head, strep throat does NOT get replaced by bug bites.  Sometimes, just to screw with your head, the day after you write that strep throat is replaced by bug bites, someone in your house will actually get strep throat.  You know, just to screw with your head.



Summer has begun for my kids.  School is out, and they slipped into their new routine of day camp and swimming lessons and catching fireflies almost effortlessly.

I finished up my work this morning and except for the tiny detail of the massive research paper I still haven’t been able to force myself to finish nay even LOOK AT, so my summer has begun as well.  The end of the school year and the beginning of summer vacation brings with it a sea change.  Grading papers gets replaced with house projects.  Soccer and field trips get replaced with zoo outings and hikes in the woods.  Strep throat gets replaced with bug bites.  The “to do” list morphs to reflect all the tiny things that I can’t manage during the hectic Spring:  clothing returns, dentist appointments, renewing the driver’s license that has been expired since November, strange but necessary household shopping, new sandals and swimsuits, mailing the package that’s been sitting in trunk of my car for four months, cleaning my house…true, sad, but true.

Because I was working this week until noon, the hours between day camp and swimming lessons were crowded with errands.  Post office – check.  Shoe store – check.  Appointments scheduled – check.  Crossing items off of the list has the potential to be satisfying and liberating…unless you’re doing these things with your kids in tow.



So I bring you, filched straight from her, and as a part of her Filch it Friday:

Things that make you want to drink gin straight from the cat bowl.

Telling your children IN NO UNCERTAIN TERMS that they are to stand next to the cart away from the displays in the housewares section of Kohls where you are desperately seeking bamboo silverware drawer dividers, only to hear, within 1.25 minutes, a loud crash, a wail, and a tiny voice calling out, “SHE DID IT.” 

Parking your children in the dressing room next to yours at Macy’s thinking that this would be a way to keep them isolated from the rest of society and out of trouble while you try on 2 bathing suits, only to sense movement, look down and see your daughter’s head poking under the divider as she yells, “I see mommy’s nipples!”  at the top of her voice.

Your daughter, when asked by her father why she’s lying on the living room floor, replying, “Making dirt angels.”

Your 6 year old son, when allowed to talk on the phone to his friend whose mother happened to call regarding playdate plans, whispering, “Wait, I’ve got to go to my room and tell you what we did today at camp,” then running into his room and slamming the door. 

Now…where is that cat bowl???