Summer time used to mean relaxing and doing nothing. Then I had kids. Now it's just as bad as the rest of the year. With no school to do you would think the kids have ample time to clean up after themselves. All the extra free time did was give them extra time to make even more creative messes.
I could provide the confetti for a parade with all the tiny scraps of paper they have created.
No one will admit how paint got on the couch pillow. It's red paint so it looks like they were sacrificing things over summer break. I'm ready to throw the pillow away after many attempts to clean it have failed, but then they would just move on to kill the remaining pillows. Plus if you visit my house you will know I have kids or a tribe of feral savages. (depends on their moods)
Summer camp for the oldest two was only a week long but they are stereotypical girls so they packed for closer to two weeks. We almost had the youngest fully potty trained while they were away. Then his sisters came back from camp and it's back to refusals and accidents. I'm almost ready to ship them off again so we can be done with diapers FINALLY.
My husband was out of work with a broken wrist. Only reason he was out of work was because his work does not allow him to do light duty for his job. It's full work or nothing. Luckily we were covered by AFLAC for the accident and he had plenty of sick leave and vacation time saved up. With our 5 kids and mini backyard zoo we never go on vacation anyway. I spent the 5 weeks helping him with everything. A few times I got cranky at his helplessness. Any normal human would after watching him play video games for hours then say he couldn't make his own sandwich. I ended up telling him he was starting to abuse the in sickness and in health portion of our vows. I didn't begrudge having to help him shower even though he always waited until I was ready to go to bed to choose to shower. Even though there was times he drove me crazy with his extra chattiness while I tried to steal some quiet time to read, I miss him now that he is back at work.
I choose summer time to deep clean the house, because I'm nutty like that. Old school books are packed up and shipped back. I have the kids clean out their closets and dressers to shed any clothing they don't fit into. It seems insane while in the middle of it all, but once it's done it helps the school year start off easily.
Our chickens have kept me on my toes this summer. With heat waves threatening to kill them if they went broody, so I had to keep a small swimming pool ready for them to wade for cooling off. The girls have all suddenly decided they are explorers and have taken to escaping their run and walking throughout the yard. They harvested a few of my tomatoes before I had a chance to get to them and before the summer heat scorched my whole garden.
Recently one of our girls was discovered to have a hidden clutch of eggs. We didn't even know she was laying yet. My oldest found her hidden behind the duck house, sitting on 5 eggs! The little feathered stinker has been laying for almost a week with that big of a clutch hidden. They were rotten as she wants nothing to do with our rooster.
Speaking of the Rooster. The one we aren't technically supposed to have. (I hate legislation on my backyard due to jerks that pay to watch roosters fight) Bubo recently learned how to crow. Our guy seemed to think he was Chantecler from Rock-A-Doodle. He was doing his best to crow up the sun every 5 minutes from 5am to 10am plus anytime the sun went behind a cloud. He was quickly fitted with a homemade rooster collar to prevent his call from being so excessive. He can still eat and do all other rooster business, it just prevents him from crowing when fitted correctly. The law around here state you can't have a crowing rooster, so technically he not a crowing rooster. He's just a rooster. This guy is much sweeter than our last one and so pretty with his white coloring. I'll try to get a picture of him. My husband is afraid to share his picture too much as he doesn't want any trouble for having him.
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