Monday, June 18, 2007

Parenting for the dehydrated

I am not sure that I can have children.

Paige and Max were at Mom and Dad’s house all weekend; I was at Mom and Dad’s house all weekend.

I also had three soccer games. (Two of which were outside in the 80+ degree heat, where I played the entire 90 minute game because neither of my teams had enough players to substitute me out for a rest.) I swam in the lake. I went to two different Target stores in one day. I celebrated Father’s Day at Grandma’s house. I finished a book. I made Father’s Day brunch. I went to the park (twice). I watched The Devil Wears Prada.

I wore myself right out.

Here’s what I’m not ready for: having a 10-year-old and a 7-year-old. Don’t get me wrong, my cousins are mostly cute and mostly sweet and mostly enjoyable but woah. I couldn’t do that full time. Not now. And definitely not while I’m playing this much soccer.

I'm sure that the fact that I was severely dehydrated on Saturday had nothing to do with how difficult caring for Max and Paige seemed to be. I was only so exhausted and woozy that the task of wrapping my dad's Father's Day presents on Saturday night brought me to tears.

And, anyway, my mom assures me that it is different if they are your own children.

She implied that different meant easier.


Someone is formulating a propaganda campaign for grandchildren. And that someone is not me.


thirtysomething said...

On the campaining side: I guess you got the wrong idea from the expression soccer-mom ... ;-)

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