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Browsing Tag: summer vacation

It’s Summer Break. Let’s Dive In, Shall We?

It’s halfway through the first week of summer break. We’ve gone hiking (during which I was entirely convinced a tick had found its way into my hair, only to discover that one actually landed on David’s shorts. Who’s paranoid now, right?), and to the pool (for a freezing two hours, which ended in two children shivering so hard their teeth chattered even though it was perfectly warm enough to be swimming, they swear). They’ve had shaved ice for dinner, and played in the sprinkler, and eaten dinner al fresco on the deck while rain suddenly sprinkled down. We’ve had one child with a 103-degree fever (yes, it was unrelated to the frigid swimming. Why do you ask?), and washed beach towels that are most definitely the neighbors’ and not ours. We’ve gone to Hersheypark and then to Troegs. I’ve broken up approximately 35 fights (a day) and ignored as many others. I have not yet cleaned out the girls’ backpacks, but Quinlan just did the job for me, and now the kitchen table is piled high with an assortment of broken…

I Hear They Even Have the Kind Where You Sleep Over

I love my children. I love my children. I love my children. Do you like my new mantra? I find myself chanting it silently, in my head, in the times I need to, you know, recenter. Calm down. It helps me stay patient when the kids are telling me they’re bored (again). Or when they’re asking me for things, one right after the other. Snacks. Something to do. TV. Playdates. Pool dates. Movies. More TV. Personal entertainment. Cruise ship program directing. I told them this morning that I don’t think they actually talk to me anymore unless they’re asking for something. Saoirse apologized for doing so. Quinlan asked me for a snack.  I love my children. I love my children. I love my children. Cian is still potty training. The poop thing, he’s got. He goes every day. He’ll even declare his intentions before he heads into the bathroom. He’ll poop in any restroom, anywhere, anytime. He’s the happiest pooper in the East. It’s awesome. It’s the peeing thing we’re having trouble with, and I mean major trouble…

Dewey over Dublin

We just returned from our first–yes, first–week-long vacation as a foursome (Fivesome? Four-and-a-utero-some?).  Don’t get me wrong, we’ve gone places before, and we’ve visited the beach every year–my gosh, people, it’s not like I keep us locked in a closet–but this is the longest time we’ve ever been away just by ourselves.  My close family members jetted off to Ireland last week to see Notre Dame’s season opener in Dublin.  Many years back, after our own big family tour of Ireland, this had been a trip David and I talked about with my parents and brother about taking together again–because it’s NOTRE DAME in DUBLIN, man–but alas, David and I started procreating adorable young children, and some other family members decided to do some of the on-site Guinness tasting we’d be missing out on. So we went to the beach.  The four of us, in an adorable, overpriced beachfront condo in our favorite small Delaware beach town.  We went to the beach, and we went to…