I’ve mentioned that this July is packed to the gills with stuff to stress me out. This is quantified when I sit down and count that LilZ will only be home for six full days this month. SIx. Out of 31. SIX. Two of those six days will be tomorrow and Friday. Then? He’s off to summer camp. Then he’s off to his Dad’s. Then he’s off to the beach. Then home for four days. Then he’s off to Blogher. Luckily, half of those trips I’ll be with him or I think I’d lose my freakin’ mind. I feel like there’s a huge chunk of my life out of whack whe he’s not here, so this month will be a bit, well, whacky.
I go pick him up in a little while. His Nana, who lives 80 miles away, is bringing him to me. I haven’t seen him since Saturday which isn’t really that big of a deal, I guess. But he’ll leave again this coming Saturday for an entire week. I feel like I need to make the best of the next two days, but I can’t really do that since I have this pesky job I have to attend. (Damn those bills that need to be paid.) This leaves me with trying to force quality time on him in our limited hours together, and if you’ve ever tried that with a pre-teen? You know how hideously unsuccessful it always is. Pre-teens have their own idea of “fun” and in never coincides with what mom plans. As a matter of fact, I can guarantee having fun doing what I want to do if I actually plan the opposite. Since I want to go swimming with him tonight? I think I’ll suggest watching a movie together. Then, when he says, “But Mom! I wanted to go swimming!” I can smile and say, “Whatever you want, hon. It’s all about you.”
I’m such a good mom.