Sunday Afternoon: Can You Fire Your Kids?

How did I get here, typing a blog?  It all started back in January when the snow rose feet high in the backyard.

Snow, snow, snow.

"A spring vacation, I thought, that's what we need.  Someplace warm, like the Turks & Caicos where the beaches are gorgeous.  Friends of mine have gone and loved it.  Wouldn't it be great to relax for a nice, warm week?"

Sun, sun, sun.

"Why would we ever spend that much money to go to a beach?" was the response from my husband.  "We go to the beach in the summer.  What are the kids going to get out of going to a beach?  If we are going to spend that much, why not go on a real trip.  Let's do something meaningful.  Let's take the kids to France."

"France, hmmm."  And, so it began, planning our trip to France.  Given my tendency to research and plan everything to death, I have spent a lot of time with books, maps, and the internet searching for places to stay in Normandy, apartments to louer a Paris, getting restaurant addresses and advice from my in-laws, figuring what to see without overdoing it with the kids.  We have tickets, passports, and a plan.   We have luggage and rain gear.  Are we there yet? 

No, of course, not.  Why do I know this?  Because, this afternoon, I took my older son (10) shopping to get a pair of good walking/trekking around shoes, in addition to the skate board sneakers he loves.  I should have know it would not go well after he said, "I really hate shopping for shoes."  After what will surely go down in history as the Great Effingers Shoe Battle, I guess we go to France with just the board sneakers.

  

I get home and take the dog for a long walk.  I do some laundry and decide that this is a good time to figure out how to make a blog.  I sit down at my computer, and behold, my husband had the instructions for me.  I create this site.  I am so proud.  I go to share it with my 14 year old daughter because I thought we could blog together about our trip.  I go to talk to her and say, "You have to come see this."  She looks up from her desk, scowls and me and in a voice that would turn Medusa to stone said,  "Do you know the way you taught me my algebra last week was ALL WRONG?  Now, I can't do my homework.  It makes no sense. What did you want to show me?"  "Nothing."  I shut the door. 

I ask my husband whether I can fire the kids.  He looked at me puzzled, "No, no, I don't think you can."

France, hmmm.

Later, the kids are traipsing into the kitchen; my daughter looks at my computer.  "I would love to be fired. And, I already made my blog."

A little while later, my youngest son (5) says, "In Fwance, they have French poooo-dehls near the Eiffel Tower.  Lots of them. You'll see."  Maybe, France will be okay. 

Maybe, I won't fire my kids, at least not today.