So, I have decided that if I don't start writing my thoughts and putting them out into the world, or at least out of my head, that my brain might explode. So here goes. Nothing fancy just some things I have been thinking about today.
School starts on Thursday and I have to say that between now and then might as well be an eternity in which you are being tortured by incessant whining and unending complaining where every five minutes one is asked, " What are we doing now?" , or "Can I have a snack?" It is the "Are we there yet" of the day to day. Enough to drive one mad, in the straight jacket, padded cell sense. Now, don't get me wrong I love all of my children but for the last 90 days or so I have spent most of my time with all four of my boys. I would like to think, for their sake, that I have a future in cruise directing or circus ring mastering, but unfortunately I do not aspire to those vocations in the future or in my present stay-at-home-mommyhood. I am of the theory that they should be happy with a stick some tape and our backyard. These items should be worth at least 30 minutes of joy if not a half an hour of using their brains.
Our world has been built on the shoulders of geniuses who never had summer camps, play dates, every toy known to man or indoor plumbing. For centuries boys and girls have been excelling beyond, what we would consider today, insurmountable odds. These backward and unfortunate souls have given us all the creations that we turn to for inspiration. Men and women such as Bach, Michelangelo, Plato, Aristotle, dare I say Einstein or Madam Curie (If I had any brain cells left this list would be way more insightful a list). The list could go on, but I will spare you a little. So why is it that my kids don't seem to be able to entertain themselves without me becoming Julie from the Love Boat?
Okay. I suddenly feel able to exhale.