I Got Them Mama Needs Five Minutes Without a Kid's Voice LAWSY It's the Summertime Blues

So...summer vacation.  I have DREAMT about this time for months now,  pretty much since after the CRCT, the standardized test by which some teachers apparently measure the school year, since once that puppy was over, so was Jeffrey's school year.  I couldn't wait for the long drives to end, for sleeping later to start, for the rabid otter nuttiness of the mornings to wind down!  And playing outside!  And biking to the park!  And swimming!  Wooohoooo!

Ahem.

1.  The long drives have ended!  Yay!
2. The sleeping late has started...but...um.  Yeah, that means that at eleven in the P.M., when Will and I are either passing out on the couch or looking at each other and waggling our eyebrows, Jeffrey is yelling and sprinting down the hallway because he can't sleep because he's hungry or he heard a weird noise or he saw a floating head in his room.  (I know, right?  I totally shouldn't have watched that My Ghost Stories show, because unlike that eejit with the punk hair who runs around in old mental hospitals getting spooked by moths flying past him, these people are taking pictures of invisible women with glowing eyes reflected in mirrors.  Hello?  NO, THANK YOU.)  Anyway, sleeping late means that Jeffrey also GOES to sleep late, which might be due to the fact that...
3. OMFC, y'all, it is so.  dang.  hot.  Like, we skipped June and jumped right into late July, which is when somebody opens the Hellmouth in Perrydise and vents the underworld a little.  It is preposterously hot, to the point where going out to water what I facetiously call a garden this year at eight o'clock in the morning means that I break a sweat.  (We haven't had any serious rain since...hang on...of COURSE I couldn't find it.  I mean, that would be too easy.  I estimate that we haven't had any good, extended rain since February.  A few showers here and there, but we haven't gotten a single thunderstorm, even.  You KNOW it's bad when I'm like, "Bring on the awful weather!!"  Sigh.)  I not only want to avoid going outside myself, I feel like a bad mom when I send my kids out.  Which means that they are stuck inside playing video games or reading or doing crafts and making messes which I have to clean up, which breaks my face.  Unfortunately, swimming is out ,because
4. My swimsuit pretty much looked at me when I tried to put it on a week ago and said, "Honey, please."  Because it is four years old and threadbare and sagging and incapable of doing anything but sitting around looking like I pasted a plastic bag over myself.  My mother-in-law is buying me a fancy one for my birthday.  Woohoo!  (Sad when you get excited over fancy bathing suits...or maybe it's good...yes. I'm totally claiming that it's good to get excited about fancy bathing suits, because it means that you are frugal in the meantime and wearing NOT fancy bathing suits, which--let's be honest--are just not as pretty as fancy bathing suits.)
5. Do I even have to tell you that the idea of biking to the park (omalawsy, and then biking BACK???) makes me fall down and try to strangle myself with all of Frodo's hair on the carpet?  (Beagles shed like it's their jobs.  Gah.)

Yeah, so all of these total up to me hanging out with the kids all day every day and getting a wee bit sick of it.  And sick of them.  And, you know, sick of myself because I'm sick of them.  And myself.  SICKNESS ABOUNDS.

What I reaaaaalllly need is a day when I get alone-time, or a time of day when I feel unguilty for being on the computer (which isn't right now, because River is het UP about having to nap and my kitchen is deplorable) and writing blogs or playing a game.  This is the lament of all WAHM or SAHM's every summer time, so nothing I'm saying here is new at all.  I'm just adding my voice to the millions of other mommy voices which are crying, "Calgon take me away!"

Ugh, except please not Calgon, because that would mean taking a bath and the thought of taking a bath actually makes me gag a little.

What about, "Apple Cider, take me away?"

No, then you'd think I'm a lush.  And honestly, it's one thing to lock yourself in the bathroom with some bubbles while your kids plaster themselves to the Wii.  Getting plastered yourself and pointing out that you have a crush on Lego Harry Potter is another.

Not that I DO have a crush on Lego Harry Potter.

The REAL Harry Potter, maybe.

What?

You know he's precious, what with his milk-white skin and red lips.

Like Snow White, only a dude.

And with a nasty scar.

And no singing animals.

You know, I think I'm going to end this while I'm ahead and go soak my head in the sink.

Y'all stay cool.