F is for F A I L

Well, we've reached that part of the summer where I throw up a white flag and admit defeat. We are at that point where all good intentions declare that they were just that, good intentions. The whole time dangling in front of me like there was actually a chance I was going to do any of them with the kids.

Another summer not done well under our belts. We are the champions. The champions of making lists and pretending like any of us wanted to do any of it. Is it possible to be proud and ashamed at the same time?

I cannot be the only mother out there who feels this, and yet Facebook and Instagram tell me I most probably am. If all those happy summer pictures are telling the truths 1000 words could say, but don't need to, then we had a seriously unusual summer that involved an out of town husband, a teenager who stays out until the wee hours of EVERY SINGLE DAY, video games for Holden, YouTube for Amelia, business website building for me, and me sleeping in until 10am in an attempt to recover from late night teenager abuse.

If I was smart, I would have declared early on that this type of summer is the summer to beat. But I forgot to declare such a thing, and now I am forced to live in missed summertime fun regret.

Or guilt? I don't actually regret any of it.

It used to be that the man worked and I played with the kids all summer. Back in the days where I controlled their every move. I shuffled them around here and there. Calaway Park, the zoo, every splash park that existed back in the day. I even took them camping for days upon days. We had all the fun.

And now half of them work and stay up too late and look at me like my sole intention in life is to torture them. And the other half despise each other.

Three teenagers and a prepubescent 10 year old. This is my life now. It is very different than what it used to be.

Speaking of that, I have a 10 going on 17 year old up for grabs. She used to be the cute one. But this summer she has found her inner antagonist. Sassing the others seems to be what fuels her. She is on fire with it. She is driving me, and all the others batty. Anyway, I thought I'd offer her up here before I list her on Kijiji.

Side note: She made more money than I did this summer and that is no word of a lie. She was employed as a mother's helper. She got paid to play with children. All that money went straight to her head, she got cocky.

A cocky 10 year old is...well...obnoxious.

Anyhoo, there is only a couple weeks left of summer and I think we did 2 of our fun list items. It doesn't help that the 13 year old broke his arm which instantly rendered 77% of our fun list useless. Between the crappy weather, the bickering teen and preteen, my weird sleeping schedule, which I will defend as awesome until my dying day, I lost my zeal for outsidedness. Which apparently, everyone else's zeal is contingent upon.

We failed summer. A giant F. F is for F A I L.

On a happy note, my husband has moved back home, for the most part. He has been working out of town since March. He shows up on occasion for a shower and a cuddle and then poof, he is gone again.

On a sad note (depending on who you ask) despite the happiness we feel at being able to see his handsome mug on a daily basis, I have suffered a tragic realization, and one that will never be fully realized. I have become irrationally accustomed to having the huge bed all to myself. I really really really enjoy sleeping alone.

Like, profoundly enjoy it.

Insert gasping face emoji here.

But, alas, it is not to be because I am a married woman. And also, I am not 73 and bedtime estranged from my husband. Being the optimist I am, however, I try to find the fun in the situation. Boring holes into him with my wide awake eyes in the middle of the night is what I have come up with, so far. And the real kicker? For whatever reason, call it maturity or common sense or whatever,  he does not want to join me in my dysfunctional sleep routine where going to bed by 3am is an "early night".

He is the pooper in this party for two.

Although, I have decided that in the long run, it might be nice to have another adult here modelling good behaviour. Heaven knows, this house full of teens could use that.

Side eye emoji.

But being the gracious and loving man he is, and knowing that sleep is a delicate notion for me, I often wake in the night to find him teetering on the edge of our giant bed, making every possible attempt to give me my space. Add this to the reasons we love him and allow him into our bed. And by our bed, I mean my bed.

Obviously.

I would try to feel bad about his lack of sleeping comfort, but let us remember that 1) he was literally sleeping in a van down by the river and anything has to be more comfortable than that. And 2), I am using all my guilty conscience feelings lamenting about another summer possibly lost to good intentions, even if they were never true ones.

There is only so much human deficiency I can shoulder at any given time.

Now if you'll excuse me, I promised the people I would actually make dinner tonight and they are all staring at me as though I have lied to them. Again. I  know what they are all thinking. Will she yell "fend for yourself", as I have been known to yell, in those last make or break minutes before it becomes too late to begin.

I do believe they are silently challenging me to resurrect this antiquated practice, even if it is only for one day.

Challenge accepted.