Kid: Mom, I’m hungry.
Me: Oh. What time is it? 3? I’m sorry. Just grab a snack, and we’ll have an early dinner.
Kid: What’s for dinner?
Me: Oh. I don’t know. Chipotle sound good?
This pretty much sums up every day of this summer. Just change the name of the fast food establishment. Don’t judge me too harshly, though. I do feed them breakfast. Judge away that breakfast doesn’t happen until about noon. They don’t go to bed until 2am.
Summer mom doesn’t care.
Want to stay up all night playing Minecraft? Sure. Piano? Nope. Clean clothes? Not unless I trip over the basket. Baths? The pool totally counts. Fingernails? I think that record holder in India better watch out.
Summer mom just doesn’t care.
Summer mom has been immersed in her fictional world, attempting to finish the manuscript she started years ago. She homeschooled her kids this past year and got little done, so this is her chance to work.
The good news: The kids are alive, they don’t stink, and they still love me.
More good news: I typed The End.
Now maybe summer mom can turn into more attentive autumn mom. Maybe.