That's what summer has become. I don't recall my mom, God bless her, ever concerning herself too much with what we did over the summer. We all went to the beach or hung out or played in the woods or something. It was fine.
Now, it's reading-math-writing-piano every morning -- not a lot of each, just enough to keep their brain cells from dying off -- and then casting around for something to do so they're not glued to various video screens for the rest of the day.
Plus, cooking, washing dishes, grocery shopping, and house work, all of which I would do if we were home in AZ but which have an overlay of slightly weird difficulty because, well, we're not home in AZ.
I have this feeling there is something I'm supposed to be doing, and I don't know what it is. I'm sure the weather (and horrific extended forecast) are contributing to my sense of frustration, but there's not a thing I can do about it, except keep looking for things to do on rainy days. I will be so happy when we finally break out of this cold and damp.
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