It's 10:30 on Thursday night and, although I'd love to say I've been sitting here relaxing for a couple of hours in a quiet house because my children are all tucked neatly and sweetly in their beds, I can't. I can't because my oldest - besides the oldest two that are almost in college and stay up till all hours - is 12 and he thinks he should get to stay up late and watch movies, eat a second dinner, and dribble the basketball like he's doing right now. Hang on.
Ok. I threw it over the fence. Was that wrong?
Anyway, because he wants to stay up later, the other fruit of my womb are staying up later, too. And so, this summer, we've said goodby to the days where the kids were in bed by 8 and Trey and I had the whole night to relax, recoup, and unwind with an episode of Lost and a box of Milk Duds.
I don't even remember what Milk Duds taste like anymore. All I can remember is that they were healthy.
Now, I know some of you are murmuring under your breath at your computer screen that I'm a spineless parent with jellyfish limbs and bad hair. And frankly, I'm just insulted that you brought my hair into this. That was low. And also, I can hear you. It's part of the new Blogger updates. Seriously, Google it.
I know, I know we could put them to bed earlier - we are actually not spineless parents who don't have any control over their children's goings-on even though you'd never know it by reading this post - but they are growing up a little and we're just on the cusp of them wanting to stretch their bedtimes but still wanting us to hang out with them, play Life, or capture the flag, or bake an Italian Cream Cake long past the time Momma is needing to shut 'er down. I'm old and tired. They tell me that all day. Why do they stop believing it right around 9:30 when they're unfolding the Twister mat and preheating the oven to 350?
It's certainly a new season of life for us and I've felt unprepared. And tired. And grouchy. GRRRRR.
Oh, my! I just reread this and I sound like the biggest baby/whiner/complainer ever! What is wrong with me? I should be so thankful my children are all home and funny and precious and want to spend, like, upwards of 15 hours a day with me asking questions, and talking, and asking questions, and wanting to eat, and asking questions, and stuff.
And I am. I am thankful. So, incredibly thankful. Thankful.
And I love them madly.
But can they please go to bed?