People thought I was crazy when I had three kids in three years.
In all honesty, people thought I was crazy well before that, but that’s a story for another time.
I had my plan. I didn’t want to space the kids so far from each other that I’d have to navigate nap schedules around school pick-ups and baseball practice. I also watched as friends struggled with infertility and I knew nothing in life was guaranteed. So my husband and I threw caution to the wind.
And the wind won.
Three times in a row.
Having all boys close together does make life pretty easy. They share clothes, toys, friends, and activities. The two older ones are on the same baseball team. All three participate in the same swim program at the same time.
Until yesterday, I was ready for my Mensa membership and a party celebrating my genius.
But that’s when calamity struck.
Summer camp registration.
The best laid plans of mice and moms.
Suddenly, my oldest wanted nothing to do with Chicago Park District camp. Instead? Danny has his eye on a series of sports camps costing more than my first year of college.
My middle son, Jack? Well, he advised that he’d never know a moment of happiness again if I didn’t sign him up for Chicago Park District camp with his best friend. The two buddies have already made plans to live in a mansion when they grow up. They’ve also indicated I can come over and do the laundry if I want.
Enticing, boys. Enticing.
My youngest, Joey, threw himself on the floor and insisted he be allowed to spend the summer in Indiana.
Why Indiana, you wonder?
The kid wants to live at Miner Dunn Burgers. He is also convinced that there are still Dominick’s grocery stores in Indiana and he wants to visit them. ALL of them.
And just like that, I don’t feel like such a smart mom after all.
Funny how that happens.
