Summer dreams ripped at the seams: Two months off isn't quite as romantic as it sounds National Post  Monday, May 30, 2005  Page: AL5  Section: Arts & Life  Byline: Carla Gunn  Column: Personal Life  Source: National Post

Since I am a teacher and have two months off beginning in July, I begin fantasizing about summer vacation by spring. I daydream about luxuriating in the warmth of the sun and spending lovely, leisurely days bonding with my two young sons. Recently, though, I set romanticizing aside and read what I wrote halfway through last summer: 

8:30 a.m. I awaken to the sound of screaming. From what I can gather, the older son has licked a peppermint belonging to the younger son and put it back into the bag. 

9:30 a.m. As I'm cleaning up after breakfast, the younger one watches. "You keep the windows dirty so that the birds won't smack into them, right Mom?" Right. 

10:00 a.m. The younger son walks around the house saying, "God I'm bored."  The older son says, "Don't say God."  "God I'm bored," taunts the other. Scuffling. Screaming. I tell them to go out and count the devilweed growing on the front lawn.  "I know how many there are," I say. "The one who comes closest to the right number gets a prize." The older one rolls his eyes. The younger one looks suspicious. 

10:30 a.m. I step into the shower. I hear a blood-curdling scream.  "What's wrong?" I yell.  "He spit on me!"  Dripping wet, I open the door and hiss, "Listen you two, I don't want to hear one more peep unless both of you are DROWNING in spit." They stare blankly. "Ah, Mom... you might want to hold onto that towel," suggests one. 

11:00 a.m. I am in the living room. I can hear creaking above. The older one must be in the computer room. I said no computer. "You need to live in the real world today," I remind him.  "I don't like the real world," he complains, "Too many surprises." 

12 p.m. I'm weeding the garden. The younger one talks. Incessantly.  "Mom, is a cow a mammal?"  "Yes."  "Is a horse a mammal?"  "Anything that is born live, drinks milk from its mother and has hair is a mammal."  "What about bald men?" he asks. 

12:20 p.m. Still chattering.  "Mom, did you know the last dodo bird on earth was hit by lightning?"  "Mom, did you call before you dug that hole for the plant? On TV the power company says call before you dig."  "Mom, will I get deer bug disease from mosquito bites?" 

2 p.m. Biking lessons. The younger one gets on. And falls off. Gets on again. And lands on his bum.  "This is harder than eating salad," he bawls. He's inconsolable. I inhale a bag of ketchup chips. 

3 p.m. He's riding his bike like a pro. 

3:30 p.m. I am sipping a coffee. Then it starts. Ag ain. Screaming, yelling, scolding, hushing, pleading, "Don't tell mom." All of a sudden, there is silence. One's unconscious, and the other's cleaning up the crime scene. I reach for the Doritos. 

4:30 p.m. I open the kitchen cupboard to start supper and see ants scurry into the corner. "Mom, I'm bored," complains one again.  "I'll give you 10 cents for each ant you kill inside the house," I say. In five minutes, I am $2.15 poorer (21 dead, 1 half dead).  Then: "Mom, I'm bored." 

5:30 p.m. My older son can't find his Gameboy. He put it down somewhere moments earlier and can't remember where. He searches and searches.  "I can play hide and seek on myself," he jokes.  "Great idea," I urge. 

6:30 p.m. I hear the younger one laughing excitedly. He's playing the SpongeBob match-up game.  "Hehehe. I'm winning! I'm winning! Oh yeah! Oh yeah!"  "Against who?" I ask.  "Against myself! He's going to need five more pairs to catch up to me!" one of his personalities adds gleefully.

7 p.m. I put my brain into a pea-shooter: We all go for groceries. They're right on my heels, whining and antagonizing. All I need is a pair of tall boots and a flute.  "Get in front of the cart, for heaven's sake," I snap.  "You're a teacher, right Mom?" asks the younger one.  "Yes," I growl.  "I find all teachers are a little bit bossy," he says.  I reach for the ultimate double-fudge chocolate-chip cookies. 

8 p.m. More sibling interaction. The older one taunts. The younger one screams. The older one says, "I was just kidding." The younger one screams. The older one says, "Big baby." The younger one screams.

Yes, summer vacation is just around the corner ... is it too late to arrange day camp?