I need a time out.
After this weekend, I need a vacation.
We invited friends over for lunch, so we spent the morning preparing food and cleaning the house. The boys ate nothing but bread and potato chips, even though I fixed a fruit salad and a few other things I thought they might like.
After our guests left, we extracted a splinter from the boy's foot and cut the baby's hair. Both kids screamed so loud for so long that I thought the neighbors would call Child Protective Services.
Once everyone had calmed down we went out to eat for my Mom's birthday. The oldest insisted on racing salt and pepper shakers across the floor and complaining loudly to anyone within earshot:
"I don't like this place. I don't like this food. I don't like this music. I don't like you."
In retrospect, we shouldn't have let him eat cake. By bedtime, he was uncontrollable. He called me a "bummer" a dozen times (it's the only swear word he knows) and bit his dad on the shoulder.
I can't remember who described age four as "magical," but that person is a lying liar who lies.
My parents are downsizing. They made an offer on a home yesterday. Today they told me their offer had been accepted. They'll start moving into their new townhouse next month.
I want to feel happy for them, but it's disorienting. In a few months the home I occupied for the entirety of my teens and half of my twenties will belong to some other family. The impending loss follows me around like a shadow.
Bummer, bummer, bummer.