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Jumping the Shark

fonzi

Okay, it’s official. I’m calling it, right here, right now. The Summer of 2015 has officially jumped the shark.

I’m not the only one who is dying a slow death at this point in the summer…am I? Because it kind of seems, from looking at your Facebook pages, that many of you are actually still enjoying this endless hell. Some of you are still posting pictures of your spectacularly fun adventures. And, if my eyes don’t deceive me, there is actual photographic evidence of your children smiling and getting along. There aren’t ANY pictures of them bickering. None at all.  According to Facebook you’re having the time of your life. You’re all like, “hashtag lovin summah vacay,” and I’m all, “hashtag will this madness never end.”

I don’t know how you’re managing to do what you’re doing over there…But over here we have become the Fonz.

Fonzie.

Arthur freakin’ Fonzerelli.

This summer has turned into Fonzie, wearing a cool leather jacket, a weird yellow life preserver, and being pulled behind a boat on a pair of water skis…

…as he jumped the shark, and officially signaled the end of all that was good.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like the July portion of summer was even all that great. It’s just that for those first few weeks of summer I was riding the emotional high of not having to pack lunches and usher hostile, fake-sick children out the door every morning.  I internally celebrated that freedom with such gusto that for an entire, oh I don’t know, seven days, I just basked in the delight of our new, lavish, unscheduled lifestyle. Around the end of the second week I started to come down from my high…and by the end of week three I had fully crashed. The days were long and endless. And hot. But still, you know, whatever. It was summer so it still sort of felt better than school.

And then it didn’t.

I’m not sure of the exact moment when we jumped the shark over here. To give you a general time frame, I would have to say that it was sometime AFTER my car started to smell like sour milk, but BEFORE my 4-year-old started singing the Fuck You Thunder Song from Ted. Somewhere right around there. A simple 4-year-old flip of the bird and time came screeching to a halt. And now I still have the entire rest of the MONTH to get through. Practically an entire month of “What are we doing today? I’m bored! What day is it? There’s no food in this house. What time is Dad going to be home? Hey, mom, watch me! What are we doing tomorrow? Can we have a sleep over?”

Suddenly making lunches, packing backpacks, signing permission slips, and fighting about homework doesn’t seem so bad. It it actually feels like it would be sort of dreamy. Sort of like that magical feeling when Fonzie kicks the side of the jukebox and a Pinkie Tuscadero song comes on. Like a little piece heaven.

So Summer 2015 and “sit on it.” I’m so over it.

Hashtag bring on the big yellow school bus.

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