By Heather O.
We’ve gone strawberry picking, blueberry picking, peach picking, and corn picking. I’ve made cobbler and shucked the corn and frozen it. We have a bazillion grape tomatoes exploding all over our garden, and cucumbers as big as my arm (not ideal, by the way. Gotta get to them sooner). We’ve been to museums and barbecues and fireworks and summer camps. J has swum his last swim meet, taking heat winner prizes in all three events, and he’s been to the library at least half a dozen times.
Oh wait. There’s still at least 6 more weeks. Dang.
My son is now melting his brain in front of a computer screen, after mainlining Scooby Doo for over 5 hours into his system this morning. I so wish I was exagerrating, but that’s probably about how long he watched his two DVDs we netflixed. And sadly, I’m so okay with that. I’ve dragged my children hither and yon this summer, trying to do my job as happy fun mom, and today, well, today, we’re just going to let their brains melt. At least until DH comes home to spring me while I go to a check-up at the doctor. Then he can come up with something fun, ’cause frankly, I’m a little funned out.
I know it’s my job as a mom to make days fun, or at least I think it is. It is, right? I mean, playdates are cool, and my kids have bonded with friends who are much more fun than mom, but ultimately, it’s my job to make sure my children have an idyllic childhood. Right? Right? I struggle with this, after all, this idea of a mother’s job description. What exactly is a mother’s job description? Camp director? Party planner? Swim coach? Piano teacher? Activity committee? All of the above?
My own mother did relatively few of these things, but she had a passle of children who could entertain themselves. I have distinct memories of making up Olympic gymnastic routines with my sisters, and playing marco polo in the pool with my brothers (who, I’m convinced, are responsible for my irrational fear of drowning because they would hold me under the water or pull me farther down when I struggled to surface. Thanks, guys). My son doesn’t have these resources—he just has a little sister who likes to take his stuff. So, it falls to me to entertain him.
Today, I’m turning that job over to Scooby and the Gang. We’ll think of some happy fun things to do tomorrow.
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