I miss those days.
I really really miss those days.
Before I had children I used to imagined what summer break would look like when I had kids some day. I was rather sure it would be a lot like mine had been. I wanted to be able to share the great memories of vacations, day-camp, and riding bikes to the pool with them.
I wanted to enjoy summer with my kids.
I didn't want to feel as though I am merely attempting to survive it.
But, that is what I am left with. I white knuckle it through the longest 3 months of the year and at the end of it I wipe my brow, pat myself on the back and thank God I didn't crumble under the weight of the stress.
I know that like most changes my boys meet this current transition is going to take some getting used to. They still very much want to be at school and most mornings they wake up saying "school bus" and looking expectantly at the clock. When the time of day passes when they would normally have been catching the bus their behavior begins to unravel.
Followed closely by my sanity.
It frustrates me that I cannot make their life easier so that ultimately our life together can be smoother and more enjoyable for everyone.
I wish I knew if they were happy. So much of the time their tantrums, meltdowns, and palpable anxiety feeds directly into my own and we're all left feeling a bit trodden upon at the end of the day.
Or so I assume.... because they can't tell me how they feel. I have to make assumptions based on their body language, whether they became aggressive that day, or by how many times I had to separate them because Sam takes his anger out on his little brother.
And then I feel the guilt that comes from trying to change anyone around me other than myself. I feel guilty for not enjoying my children more. Guilty for spending so much time just counting down the number of hours before they are in bed and I can breathe without this heaviness upon my heart.
I don't much care for summer break.
And we're only two days into it.
