There's a funny thing about routines, and that is how useful they are. What is pretty not so funny is the chaos that ensues when routines get disrupted, or when you try to get yourself - or, more importantly, your children - back on to them after a break.
This morning, a mere 4 or so hours after I had finally gone to bed last night, Matt headed off for his Monday morning return to work. Fortunately thanks to some other night owls on Facebook I was reminded of the fact that we were in the midst of the "supermoon" last night, and I have to admit that the moon was very bright last night, and I'm glad I didn't miss that. Long after the moon had started to wane this morning, not many of us were awake in the house - and so finally at about 8:50 I had to go wake the boys up for their first day of camp. Blake instantly decided that he didn't want to go, but Noah seemed pretty up for it. After a lot of coaxing, cajoling (me), whining and delaying (Blake), we finally got out the door.
The camp is really lovely - held at the local prep school and full of lots of great activities: swimming, gymnastics, a bouncy castle, art, etc, and Blake had been there before at Easter, so it was a bit of a surprise when he had a massive meltdown saying that he didn't want to go. It was a big 'un: crying, screaming that he didn't want to stay, begging me to take him with me to work, turning around and trying to open the door to go back out, clinging on to me when I finally finally had to leave. I was surprised that he was willing to kick up all that stink in front of the other kids (all sitting in a circle while they were getting their names called to go to the first activity, staring wide-eyed at the drama!), but it sure didn't bother him. Noah, meanwhile, had just gotten right into line with his age group and trotted off, sporting his totally ghetto London baseball cap which he convinced us to buy him a few weeks ago (pic below on day of purchase).
Anyway, finally one of the staff suggested to Blake that he could go help set up the games outside, to which he begrudgingly agreed, and I was able to make my escape. When I picked them up at 4:00, it was like it had never happened and the girl said he was absolutely fine the minute I turned my back. The things they put us through!
My dilemma is now how I can get myself back into my exercise routine, with a sprint triathlon to do in a mere 3 weeks. I was doing really well before vacation but now it's all fallen apart. A bit like my young man did earlier. Guess there's a reason to get a routine and stick to it...