Pie for breakfast? Of course! It’s Summer.


I love when my boys are off school. I do.

This summer has been filled with water slides, Chevy Chase style cross country expeditions to see a mouse, trips to Sonic happy hour, IMAX screenings, friends visiting and more.

There is an element of summer I am not proud to announce. It occurred to me this week as I was taking my kids out (not for the first time that day) and I realized it was 4 p.m. and the two small ones had not brushed their teeth yet that day.

There had been warning signs along the way. Little hints to my decline. Like when Evan came out of his room in black sport shorts and a black T-shirt. He looked like a sniper. I said nothing.

Caleb outfit
Would you let your kid wear this sock-and-sandal combination? If it’s summer, you do.

Or when I bought Caleb some Croc-like shoes that are actually in the shape of crocodiles.

Then there was the cereal. I bought them Cinnamon Toast Crunch. The real stuff with BHT. Apparently you do feed people you love carcinogens.

And as I write this, my eldest is wearing the exact same sniper ensemble (in his size, mind you) that Evan wore.

Summer has won, folks. Some would call it “choosing your battles.” I call it defeat.

You want tooth-rotting fruit snacks, kids?

Why not.

Pie for breakfast?

Of course!

Do we haaavvvveeeee to take a shower again????

Well, it’s just been two days and we did go swimming today. No.

We – no, I – need structure. I fall apart and lose all good sense without clearly defined schedules and bedtime rituals.

Don’t be confused. This is not a call for school to start stat. This is a wake-up call for me. I have realized I have different standards for acceptable daily life during the summer than I do during the school year.

And I’m so OK with that.


So today was the last day of school for numbers one and two. Three has to go to his one-day-of-school-a-week all through summer and he is less than thrilled.   “I not go to school anymore! I  done too!”, he insists. I insist that he is going because mommy has to pay whether he is there or not.

I went in to get Evan from his class. I now know to go in as much as possible while they are still not embarrassed to see me. Continue reading “LDOS”

A Too Long Facebook Status

I have no words for the ride home today. I picked my two older boys up from school today and they were chipper and excited it was Friday. Evan sat down in his booster and promptly brought out his lunch box.

“I saved my ice cream because I didn’t have time to eat it.”

“You what?”

Surely I heard him wrong because the three-year-old tank in the back seat is in a loud phase.

“I saved my ice cream. I can’t wait to eat it.”

“Honey, it isn’t going to be any….” I didn’t have to finish the sentence. He had already opened his lunchbox and saw the remnants of his ice cream. How could something that brought so much joy bring so many tears?

ice cream carnage
ice cream carnage

I did what any mother worth her salt would do. I started driving to the nearest gas station so I could buy him a new ice cream. He finally stopped crying when we got to the store and of course they were out of the one treat Evan wanted. We finally decided on a slushy and all was right with the world.
We went home a more scenic way. A way that includes cows, horses, chickens, deer and peacocks.

Yes. Peacocks.

There is a farm on the back roads that has peacocks. It’s fun and we are used to stopping for them, or just watching them walk around. Today was a treat, though. Today we saw a peacock just hanging out on the roof of the barn.

just another day on the roof....
just another day on the roof….

After we had to move on from that stop (due to the pesky other drivers on the road) we went to the end of the block and saw a chicken with nine little chicks, just hanging out in the street. Not moving for anything in the world. It was seriously like a trip to the zoo. So again we stopped and took pictures, city folk that we are.

Finally all the chicks had meandered safely to  the side of the road when a SUV came barreling down the street so I started waving my arms like a crazy person and yelling “Baby Chicks Ahead!!!!”. They couldn’t hear me, the windows were up. At least I was able to embarrass Michael.

when Michael saw all the chicks he asked how many times that chicken had sex. I ignored it.
when Michael saw all the chicks he asked how many times that chicken had sex. I ignored it.

So we drove to the next road (all of these locations are within a mile of each other) and I kid you not, there were ten vultures eating a dead deer. Those things are so nasty. It was like our train ride through the zoo suddenly turned macabre. I went from saying “Hey guys! Look how cute!” to “Oh my gosh that’s disgusting! DON’T LOOK!!!” in one breath. I didn’t take a photo of that attraction.

We finally made it home and I checked the mail. I was elated to find a parcel key in my box. If anyone knows me well, they know that every day I check my doorstep with the hopes of having a package of presents delivered to my front door. It never happens, but someday it might. I could hardly wait to open the parcel box and when I did, I almost cried.

Our mailperson seems to have trouble getting the mail in the right place. It’s been a problem in our subdivision for a while. Some friends of ours both have the last name Hernandez, and they get each other’s mail. Because apparently they are the only Hernandez families in Texas. That being said, the package was not for me. It was for another Eckert that lived in a completely other subdivision. BUT, her first name did start with an E (like Eric) and her street’s name did start with the same letter as my street’s name.  Tricky business, that reading the address and name and matching them up.

I was a little bitter about not getting a prize. I might still be.

Anyway, the only reason this was a blog is that it was entirely too long to post as a Facebook status.  Maybe someday I will post something meaningful, but until then, just send me presents in the mail.

Of course, they will be delivered to the other Eckert in Temple, TX.