4th of July with kids > other holidays with kids.
I realize I’ve been somewhat pessimistic about holidays with kids.
I’m a bad Christmas mom: I have a hard time living up to societal expectations to create a winter wonderland inside my home and lack the motivation to dress my kids in coordinating red outfits for a Santa photo shoot.
I firmly believe the pumpkin patch outing with young kids is overrated… or else I don’t have the patience to brave the crowds and deal with the “you’ve had enough kettle corn” meltdowns. Either way, the effect is the same: not fun.
Easter went a little better, with a few successful egg hunts, but it still ended with my two year old throwing up after I unwisely let him eat unlimited chocolate bunnies.
But I’ve gotta say: The 4th of July with kids was a winner. At least, this year it was. Last year I was 37 weeks pregnant with my daughter, 3 centimeters dilated and advised not to travel further than 30 minutes from the hospital. And my son woke up that day with a fever, canceling even our “drive somewhere local to swim and watch fireworks” plan.
But this year!
This year, nobody’s pregnant (I mean SOME people in the world are pregnant, but not me!), nobody got sick and the kids had a great time. Plus, the adults had a good time to the extent one has a good time while diligently keeping tabs on your kids around bodies of water and limiting yourself to one drink because … well, because you’re diligently keeping tabs on your kids around bodies of water.
Before I get too far into this, I acknowledge that the 4th of July is kinda problematic this year (and a lot of other years, but especially this year—it feels weird to celebrate the United States of America when they’re currently more like the Divided States of America). But I think of the 4th of July as just a big celebration of summer and swimming and food, anyway. That’s why I look forward to it every year.
We took the kiddos to my husband’s hometown and spent time on the river, by the lake and in the pool with his family and friends. That sentence, right there, is why it was a great holiday: Because there were other people there to watch my kids.
I’m kidding. Kind of.
It IS great to watch my two children, especially the 2.5 year old who’s old enough to really PLAY, spend time with his cousins. Even if some of that time is spent throwing all 120 water balloons out of the bucket, breaking them rapid fire as if he’s trying to win a race, before his cousins can grab even one. And even if some of that time is spent indoors while a thunderstorm passes through, stealing his big cousin’s stuffed animals and throwing a fit when she wants them back. And even if it did rain on the ACTUAL 4th of July, causing us to leave early to drive home because it wasn’t nice enough to play on the lake.
But then there’s the rest of the time, when the kiddos are running around the lawn blowing bubbles and floating in the pool with water wings and screaming with joy as they go down the water slide. And the baby, meanwhile, sat on the grass in her little pink bathing suit and matching hat, eating raspberries and giggling. It all makes me feel like a cliche of a mother, wanting to cry as I watch the little ones have the kind of time kids are meant to have.
And it IS a relaxing feeling to know there are other adults around with eyes on the kids. Even though I’m still watching them, other people are, too. It helps that I’ve instituted a parenting rule on my husband that I saw on Instagram: Whoever has given birth the least amount of times is the one who gets in the pool with the kids while whoever has given birth the most amount of times lounges in a chair nearby.
I’m sure next year one of the kids will get sick or one of the adults will get sick or we’ll have to go to urgent care because someone broke their wrist. But I’m celebrating this year’s 4th of July (or, actually, the 2nd and 3rd of July because of the aforementioned 4th of July rainstorm BUT IT WAS STILL A GREAT WEEKEND).