A guilty pleasure of mine is taking a few minutes after school drop-offs in the morning to catch my breath before work.
Straight out of the obvious disclaimer department, I love my kids and they are our world, but there are times when there’s a need for a little time to allow the heart to grow fonder.
For me there’s no better time when I need a little break than come Monday morning after a weekend with my kids.
Monday morning, as I imagine is the case in most households, can often be a struggle. There’s a rush to get ready in time for school and typically due to the kids being a little sluggish coming off the weekend.
I usually have to encourage them with a heavy hand throughout the morning to get dressed, have their breakfast and brush their teeth. They generally just need a little giddy up added to their step.
By the time I drop off Beckett at Worcester Prep at 8 and then take Carson to Ocean City Elementary School, I feel like I have put in a full day, and I haven’t even worked yet.
That’s why I can often be found around 8:30 a.m. sitting in my truck in the parking lot at Ocean City Elementary School in complete silence.
It may be an odd visual, but the good news is I’m not talking to myself. That is, at least not aloud yet.
It rained a lot this week, but that didn’t stop us from swimming in our pool.
With these days numbered as fall rolls in, I make it a point to get the kids out to enjoy it as much as possible before it’s closed next month.
While swimming Tuesday in a torrential downpour, it was fun to watch the boys getting a kick out of how high the pool water was and loving the pouring rain.
As I splashed them with huge cannonballs, I told them, “I hope this is something years from now you guys will remember.”
Carson didn’t hear me because he likes to spend most of his time in the pool underwater. This time of year it’s usually spent digging out some leaves that fell from nearby trees. Seeing leaves on the pool bottom drives him crazy.
Beckett did hear what I said, but I’m hoping his recollection changes a bit over time.
“I know I will never forget the summer I saw my little brother’s butt each and every day,” he said, referring to Carson’s aversion to swimming with a baby suit on.
Both our kids every now and again sustain what we call selective injuries.
On the way to school the other morning, Carson tripped in the front yard. He didn’t seem banged up at all but his clothes did get dirty enough to bring into question whether an outfit change would be needed. I decided to just brush him off and be thankful it wasn’t picture day.
While walking to school, he asked to be carried, pointing to his knee and ankle at the same time. Normally, I would understand and acquiesce, but this time I remembered how he was a few minutes before in the truck.
He was fine enough to take his seat belt off on the way to school so he could dance and dab to Bon Jovi. He seemed to want me to believe that his ailments only bothered him when he walked. Dancing and jumping while doing his imitation of Usain Bolt was no problem. Again I decided to let him tough it out a little bit and make the walk to school. Later, at home he seemed just fine as I found him jumping on his bed at bedtime.
Beckett, too, has a penchant for the same sort of dramatic opportunism. He’s well-known around our house for injuries creeping up on him over time rather than bothering him immediately.
One example involves a recent afternoon when he was biking around the neighborhood. At some point, he must have fallen getting off his bike and skinned up his knee and scraped his hand. It was significant enough of an injury to his hand to impede on his homework. It seemed right as he sat down to write some spelling sentences he got a sharp pain in his hand, which just a few minutes before was being used to pull off cartwheels, donkey kicks and handstands. He tried to tell me it doesn’t hurt when he puts pressure on it, only when he squeezes something. Needless to say, he was able to finish his homework with some prodding.
Another example came in karate the other night. He was clearly tired and didn’t have a lot of energy during this particular session. I couldn’t really blame him as it was 7 at night. Since I could see his attention was waning and energy was low, I wasn’t surprised when he went up to the instructor and started pointing to his ankle.
He explained how he thinks he sprained his ankle on Monday at recess. I pointed out when he came to me that he was jumping on the trampoline a few minutes ago at home. That’s when he showed me how swollen it was (I didn’t see anything) and asked me if I thought he had torn a ligament.
Amazingly, he was able to finish the session and healed quick enough to play basketball before bed.
