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School. Must. Start. Soon.

Enough with this family time. We’ve had two weeks of no school, no camp, no alarm clocks and no schedule whatsoever. Jane, Alexander, I love you, but it’s time for you to go to school.

It’s not what you’d expect either. I’m not feeling suffocated. I’m not craving adult company. The house isn’t a mess and I don’t care that I can’t listen to Howard 100 when you’re in the car. I adore your company.

Kids, when you’re home I get fat.

This is unacceptable.
You see, kids, Mommy pretends like she’s not shallow and that it’s what’s on the inside that matters. I think we all know better. Mommy likes to work out. A lot. It’s not because Mommy loves the endolphin rush, it’s because Mommy likes to eat. Mommy loves brie and white truffle olive oil. Mommy loves ice cream and not that fakey fro-yo that people try to pass off as a good substitute. Mommy also knows that ice cream tastes best in your nightgown whilst watching TV. Mommy takes food seriously, and Mommy can fry a chicken that will make you propose (it
totally worked on Daddy). But kids, we have problems.

When you’re home from school and camp and whatnot Mommy cooks and eats with you and then I sit and watch you play. I light up watching you play tag or basketball. My heart soars when you make forts in the backyard. Sadly, during these blissful moments I’m still, so sedentary that sometimes I doze off in the August heat. The naps are glorious, don’t get me wrong. To be perfectly honest, there’s just too much Mommy
to love right now. So, it’s time for everyone to get on a schedule.

It’s time for you to get back to school and for mommy to waddle get back to the gym. Your summertime jaunts for ice cream and the four PM cocktail hour have turned me into an apple.

It’s not that I don’t adore our family time. Really kids, but you’re getting the boot before I need boot camp.