We’re in Countdown Mode now. Less than three months, and we’re not having fun yet.
What happened? Countless obstacles (a.k.a. Big Butts) appear in your path when planning a Big Break. Duh!?! I’ll not list them all for fear of boring you and frightening myself. But today’s, which emerged last evening over dinner in a dark, rude restaurant is this: Communication. If you’re not going alone, you’ll need to talk over stuff like…
But nah, what we’ve got here is not only house-wide failure to communicate, but downright chaos and disorder. Dirty dishes abound. Junk food is ubiquitous. The Kids are so NOT adjusting to the fall regimen, but instead complaining about it all, trying to skip sports, and treating me like the bad cop.
Do these citified brats even want a BreakAway? Would they even groove on daily beach lessons (home schooling) with teacher-Dad? Or would they rather just watch SpongeBob SquarePants reruns?
Please: Don’t answer that.
Meanwhile, my own dreams seem like a school of angelfish getting tangled in nasty nets. And as for my parenting prowess? Let’s just say I’m getting real confident about my kayaking. Solo.
On very little, fitful sleep, these are the questions I’m not loving long before daybreak. Will the sun even come up today? I’m filled with doubt; the pre-dawn sky looks filled with murky haze. An ill wind is hissing and snarling. (Or is that just my children?)
Chance of rain: 70%.
Is it just me, or is Rilke’s first name, Rainer, kind of a downer?