Natalie Whatley

Are your summers busy, or carefree?  Everyone I talk to is busy, busy, busy. We’ve been pretty busy being carefree at the Whatley residence. Make no mistake; we’re completely occupying our time. It feels carefree because we have great latitude in choosing how to fill the hours. It’s a lifestyle that suits us well for now, but I know in a few weeks I’ll be ready for some order in our lives.

Between August and May, projects big and small are placed on the back burner. School, homework, extracurricular schedules, and that repulsive practice of getting up before sunrise pretty much relegates our existence to maintaining the status quo. Now that I’m free from that, I can tackle all the things that have resided on my mental to-do list for months. (That list causes me untold stress – I need to find it a home outside my noggin.)

First on the list were dental procedures requiring days of recovery and a soft diet. Check.  

My younger children’s rooms had become cluttered, and were in serious need of a “mom” cleaning – you know, large trash bags, moving furniture to vacuum, locating articles of clothing that were MIA, and removing all the outgrown stuff.  This job is a real treat. (Yes, that’s sarcasm you’re detecting.) Wouldn’t it be quicker to put dirty clothes in the hamper instead of wasting creative energy in finding some off-the-wall spot when asked to clean your room?  And trash…I’ll never stop if I start on that one.

Enroll children in summer course: Uses of trash receptacles 101. Check.  

My middle child, who is entering junior high this fall, surprised me by filling two large boxes full of toys he’d like to be rid of.  New-found floor space shows the gaping hole where childhood once stood.  Like males are known to do, he kept a stiff upper lip. Days later, he asked if I’d taken all the boxes away. Having traveled this road before, I had put them in an easily accessible place. Who doesn’t relate to the bittersweet tug of growing up, countered by the joys of being a kid?  The stiff upper lip curled and exposed his metal-studded smile when I granted permission to visit the boxes whenever he chooses.

Next on the list is getting the oldest through the parent-taught driver’s education course. What were we thinking?  There are driving schools willing to take money in exchange for working with a teenager who figures out the gas pedal more easily than the brake. I’ve learned my voice has an octave never used before, and that it negatively affects his driving and my blood pressure.

Enroll oldest in summer courses: You don’t know it all 101, 201, and 301. Check.

Take time to enjoy the little “angels” because they’re growing up fast. Check. Check.

Be a kid again. Make a mess with the earnest belief that someone else will come behind me and tidy up. Check.

In between all of the above, I managed to tackle one particularly large personal project. It’s been an adventure to say the least. I’ll fill you in next week. I’ll probably even invite you over to see what I’ve been up to. Always keep them guessing. Check.

© 2008 Natalie Whatley

I breathed a huge sigh of relief on Friday, just before sheer panic set in. Summer is here, and the kids are out of school.  The shackles made up of tight schedules and homework have been removed, but there’s a dark side to this freedom. I’ll have no more than a total of three minutes daytime peace until late August. Do the math. It works out to mere seconds per day. Calgon’s not strong enough to take me away.  I may need pharmaceutical help to get through.

                Although I spend much of May dreaming of days not filled with endless to-do lists, I’m reminded each summer that in my world, inactivity breeds much discontent. That’s where the Whatley Entertainment Committee comes in. There are three sitting members:  Chairman, me; vice-chairman, myself; and secretary, I. Honestly, the meetings are a waste of time, and I frequently get the feeling I’m talking to myself. The committee is considering dissolution since pleasing  a 9, 11, and 15 year-old, even part of the time, has become a monumental task.  The members have grown weary from trying, but I’ll share some of what has worked in the past.   

Phase one: If you’re a stay-at-home mom, the absolute first thing you must do each day, is get out of bed before the kids. You need a few quiet moments to plot and plan… sanity is not maintained while flying by the seat of one’s pants. Choose some goals for the day, and prioritize. Have some breakfast, and even take a shower before donning the referee shirt and whistle. Years of in-the-lab scientific study have shown this improves outlook and bickering stamina by a whopping 98.6%. This strategy alone has kept me from being a resident of the psych ward.  

Phase two: Allow the kids to sleep until at least ten. (Sometimes later, depending on mood, and state of mental health on the given day) This approach works well, and removes some of the time potentially spent entertaining. Have them eat a hearty breakfast when they arise as this will aid in executing phase three.

                Phase three: Set up some summertime fun in the backyard with a bucket full of water balloons, water guns, paint, chalk, or whatever your little ones enjoy. If you have a wooden fence, provide buckets of water and paintbrushes so they can “paint” the fence. Slather on the sunscreen, and get them all set- up outside.  Don’t forget a cooler with drinks and snacks.  Create a “dry” zone for towels and a change of clothes. Hang around for a few minutes and appear to involve yourself in the frivolities. Then, quietly slip back inside for a “potty break”, absent-mindedly lock the doors (out of habit, of course), and find some earphones. Be sure the volume is louder than the sound of knocks on the door.  

 Get going immediately. Paint your toe-nails, finish that book or one of my personal favorites, just sit and stare at a wall. Be strong, and stay focused on the task at hand. Resist the urge to look outside.

All kidding aside, summer is great for spending quality time with children.  I have three I’ll loan out if anyone needs proof.

© 2008 Natalie Whatley