Summer, summer, summer

It is officially summer in the Mancini house. Yay…no, boo…well…maybe yay.

Summer means the little Mancini monsters are running about, demanding non-stop attention, and taunting each other until one leaves the other by stomping feet and slamming doors. This started last night, a mere two days into summer break, when the elder Mancini offspring made the youngest Mancini offspring burst into tears by calling her a baby and then the elder Mancini huffed off muttering about how unfair life is because she got in trouble.

Summer also means swim lessons. This is where I have to grab the chair to stop myself from jumping in and rescuing my kids because I’m not a big swimmer so seeing my kids jumping off the high dive and “swimming” to the edge under the not-so-watchful eye of teenaged lifeguards freaks me the fuck out.

It would be time for bike riding, but the elder had a wreck when she was like two and still refuses to get on a bike (she turns twelve next week). She won’t skateboard either. Or skate. Or anything else that could possibly result in any kind of bodily injury.

Summer is the time for children’s theatre. From the beginning of June through the end of July every weeknight will be spent with the kids rehearsing lines on stage while I dig through the dusty dingy community theatre closet finding costumes for about sixty kids (I somehow became the unofficial children’s theatre costumer about five years ago).

It’s time for long walks, barbeques (Mr. Mancini’s smoked chicken makes me want to do crazy things to him. He likes that.), get-togethers, and margaritas around the fire pit.

Somewhere in here, I will squeeze in some writing, editing, promoting, and such. But for now, I’m just happy that we made it through the first few days of break without me duct-taping children to their beds so they’ll leave each other alone.

Just kidding.

Maybe.

So what does summer mean in your part of the world?

4 thoughts on “Summer, summer, summer

  1. Hope you have an awesome summer with that smoked chicken, Em! Summer for me means (hopefully) a driving trip somewhere with hubs and kids, outside time in my failing garden and a lot of beer. Cheers!

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  2. Smoked chicken drives you to do crazy things — wow. Does it work in reverse? And if so, can I get that recipe? We did the family vacation. Summer means golf for hubby and writing in the AC for me.

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    • Seriously. I can’t even explain it. And it isn’t just me. My friends get pissed if he grills and I don’t let them know. Come to think of it…it’s kind of creepy. Maybe his secret ingredient is Meth.

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