I never thought I’d say that. Ever. I hate the summer heat. I dislike the humidity. I dislike how the electric bill gets bloated. I dislike feeling guilty turning on the aircon in the middle of the day. But it’s been a heck of a year and I can’t wait for the schoolyear to end and for the summer break to start.
No getting up early to pack school lunch bags.
No telephone calls to “Please bring my camera” or slippers or ID or the project that “I spent half the night printing but forgot to bring to school” because “I need it now.” You know, like you’re such a bad, bad, bad mother because you forgot to remind them not to forget everything they’d need in school for the day. Like you’re an even worse mother if you don’t drop everything you’re doing, and even when your editor’s been on your case for the past half hour, and bring to school whatever it was that they forgot, and pronto!
No stressful mornings performing impossible tasks like getting Sam out of bed. These wake-up-Sam episodes get really, really tense when Speedy has to do the job. You’re cooking and looking at the garden through the kitchen window. Just as the sun is peeping out of the horizon, casting a warm orange glow on the grass still wet with dew and you’re thinking Oh, how idyllic, how romantic! then from somewhere inside the house a door slams and someone shouts. More doors bang and you know Speedy’s trying to get Sam out of bed.
Your mood’s ruined, you suddenly feel tired and your resolve to take photos of the kids’ packed school lunch every morning evaporates. You just want to get the cooking over with, crawl back to bed, wake up three hours later and try to fool yourself that the morning’s shouting match was just a nightmare. And you know you’re just kidding yourself and you get even more stressed out and you promise yourself that when they get home, you’ll beat the living shit out of Speedy and Sam — Sam for being an ass and Speedy for being a bigger ass.
Just a few days ago…
So Speedy was screaming at the top of his lungs, “Sam, wake up! Why (censored portion) don’t you wake up?!?”
Sam’s muffled scream from under her blue comforter, “I am awake!!”
Speedy, in a tone three decibels higher (dog and cats are shaking at this point): “Then, why (censored portion again) don’t you get up?!?”
And Sam screams irritably, “Because you told me to wake up; you didn’t tell me to get up!!!”
So, you know, I wish summer vacation begins tomorrow.