Suddenly, the car burst into flames and she crawled away, fire licking her shoes. She rolled into the ditch, splashing gratefully into the water and looked back. There goes her favorite pantsuit, she thought ruefully.*
Well, my next book, It’s Not Fair: Learning to Love the Life You Didn’t Choose, is off to my editor after a month of nonstop writing. I’m feeling drained and last week someone called my writing a “hobby” and I punched her in the face…mentally…and anyway, I’m declaring July Rediscover My Profound Love of Blogging Month. No, that’s a crappy title. I’m calling it A Return to Old School Blogging. Meh. Okay, screw the title, this month, I’m going to let myself play around on here and babble away to remember The Fun.
I figure you’re either at the beach or have officially melted into your lawn chair and can’t get up and go to your computer, but on the off chance you’re reading this and like, “WTF, she’s filling up my inbox with stupid emails UNSUBSCR–” I will give away a pony and a lifetime’s supply of Legos for Girls, the Legos that come with their own snap-on menstrual pads and nursing bras. (I can’t back that up. I won’t be giving those things away. I do think maybe girl Legos come with pads, though, because what else would make them girly?)
I will give away a box of some of my favorite things as a little Christmas in July reward. That’s real. I’ll set up a little official countdown clock where you can enter to win, but I have to wait because I’m helpless and my husband is at the car place having the hitch on our van fixed. (I wonder if the girl Legos could help me learn how to make a countdown clock.) And also if you read all my July blogs and pass the end of the month exam, you’ll win free Nutella for life.**
So around here, I’m coming up for air and spending vast acres of time with my children. And Evie’s on her usual quest to dominate my brain with her nonstop word shenanigans.
Me: Tomorrow is July!
Evie: The next day after today?
Me: That is what “tomorrow” means.
Evie: July is tomorrow?
Me: Yes.
Evie: The parade is tomorrow.
Me: The parade is Saturday. The Fourth of July is Saturday. The first of July is tomorrow.
Evie: Why would we celebrate the first of July?
Me: Aggghhh.
Hashtag this is every conversation we have.
In an attempt to be Fun Mom (Note: I suck at Fun Mom. Fun Mom can eat it.), I took the kids to Target for slushies, then to paint pottery and play at an indoor park. (It’s hot as balls here in Georgia and we have mosquitos the size of your face. Going to an outdoor park would be ludicrous.)
As soon as they started playing, I realized with horror that I have “those big kids” now. I remember being the mom with the tinies and watching “those big kids” with no small amount of side eye, and now I have the big kids and I’m aware of all side eye from everyone else.
All the other kids were little and giggly and my weirdos were screaming “THIS SLIDE HURTS YOUR BUTT SO HARD.” I had to tell them about the not teaching small children new words but everything was BUTT BUTT BUTT. I was mentally planning our escape if one of them shouted PENIS.
They clomped around on big kid feet and screamed like they were trying to wake the dead which scared all the precious people. Hey, speaking of dead-raising, then they found the trampoline and taught everyone “Dead Man,” which includes an adorable chant about dead men rising and apparently is a game about zombies. Or maybe Jesus. Maybe they’re just super spiritual. The point is, I promise to never write a book about parenting, okay?
Child: I’M GONNA KILL YOU!
Me: Careful! You almost kicked her in the head.
Child: I was trying to do that.
I got them out of there without any major damage and took them home to watch another episode of A.D. The Bible Continues, where my five-year-old got to see a man get his throat slit. I didn’t remember that part from the Bible, but maybe it’s in the King James Version.
TV: *unexpected throat slash*
Me: *clap hand over Evie’s eyes AFTER it happened* Whoops, whoops, probably shouldn’t have seen that.
Elliott: That. Was. Awesome.
Seriously, I promise to never write a book about parenting.
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*Blog experts told me you should start with a killer opening paragraph that makes people want to read the whole thing. I didn’t have anything like that.
**I can’t back this up.
