After talking with the children about all the possible topics, you start to say "no", but you break even before you finish.
And now your kids think you stutter.
Not that it's surprising, if you really stutter.
You are post-traumatic from the visit to the museum of primitive man.
A-profo Adam Kadmon, the children haven't showered in three days.
They lit a fire on the balcony and you suspect they will exterminate you.
You also watched the video of the stand-up artist Erez Shalem, who threatens Yaffe Ben David that every day of the strike he will give his children another can of XL before school.
And although you are in favor of workers' rights and certainly in favor of fair wages for teachers, you liked him.
And you participated in the mother's group.
And you bought six, so be it.
So many days have passed since you thought one thought to the end, that... what was the question?
The money ran out, the attractions ran out and you ran out of energy, so you took the kids to IKEA and if anyone worried that you still had a drop of sex appeal left, you brought schnitzels in a plastic box with you.
In the plumbing department, the bonkflad was blocked, in the lighting department, they turned off the light on your youth and, as always, in the end you come out as a hot dog.
There weren't the shelves you wanted, so instead you bought a toilet brush and bag clips - the things you have to buy at IKEA, otherwise you pay a fine and a penalty.
You finished unloading the cartons from the apartment hallway and you only have 7,839 different bureaucracies left to deal with, but there are no queues at the Ministry of the Interior and no one is answering at the property tax department.
You complained to a friend who came to visit that somehow your bedroom is still the messiest, and she said that the whole house is actually equally messy.
As always, you're stuck with a straw basket full of things you don't know where to put, in two days you'll get angry and throw everything in the trash, and then you'll need everything that was there.
They say there is no wisdom like experience, but that doesn't apply in August.
By the way, it turns out that the kitchen is not a cute place to eat breakfast as you thought, but the place where everyone puts all their things in a pile and then goes to eat in the living room.
It turns out that central air conditioning means that someone is always too hot and someone too cold.
It turns out that the children will knock on your bathroom door even if you moved to the Palace of Versailles.
Someone added your phone number to some database, and the only ones calling you right now are some scammers and soliciting donations.
You already contributed everything you have to contribute in July, including patience, nerves and empathy for others.
Your sanity can be found in Sunfrost bags.
The only thing you have to offer is a straw basket.
Your mother-in-law is your enemy and your best friend.
With the flick of a text she can lift you up and bring you down with borrowed grief, but she's also August, so the general direction is down.
Your mom will answer you when September comes, and not just because she types with one finger.
It is difficult to complain to them, both because they are no longer children and because you have no other arrangement, so let's complain to the grandparents.
They are useless anyway.
Nothing, but nothing will make you spend more time outside than you have to.
Not even when you realize that you went to the supermarket and bought pita bread for 10 shekels and you will get 89.90 pita bread.
A month ago you calculated how much a babysitter would cost you, yesterday you taught the little one how to order Walt and let the baby play with a two hundred dollar bill.
You haven't done your nails since June and your hair looks like a bird's nest.
You have a flip flop tan on your feet, and if the neighbors don't want to see you in sweats and ripped boxers, they're welcome to close the blinds.
Your soundtrack is Russian cartoon tractor videos.
Your diet consists of lukewarm coffee and cold food.
Your pilates instructor has stopped sending messages.
Usually you're all about it, the work, the kids, the house, but at the end of August nothing seems so important anymore.
pay the electricity bill, enroll the girl in the afternoon, answer all the emails, make an appointment with the dentist.
You dump all these urgent tasks on yourself for another two weeks, you will go to Kibinimet.
If she's still here.
At the end of August, nothing is certain anymore.
shishabat@israelhayom.co.il
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