Day 1: “Please stop touching me…”

…is the phrase that I predict I will say more than any other over the next two weeks. We take off today on a 15 day road trip up through the midwest, east across southern Canada and finally ending in Maine. We’ll stay in Maine for a few weeks before heading back down the east coast towards home. I was sitting on our front porch as Sarah finished up a cleaning inside while most of my kids were either on me, leaning against me or pushing one another to get a piece of my sweaty essence. Then I started thinking back to yesterday when I was sitting alone on our hammock relaxing. My solo time lasted about 30 seconds because my kids are what you’d call swarmers.

You may have Swarmers at home or maybe you’ve seen them around town. You can normally spot them by finding their Host. Hosts are identifiable as an adult that is sneaking around suspicious as all hell. They will look like they are being tailed by cops or something, ducking off behind trees, hidden park benches in the shade, whatever. If this person is in fact not a criminal, they are likely the host of swarmers. What could they be looking for? A hidden spot to relax. Maybe they just opened their book or took out their phone to catch up on Words With Friends (still a thing??). Watch that person for a few minutes and if they are uninterrupted, then you know they don’t have Swarmers. You can look away or risk coming off as a creep.

Swarming starts innocently enough. One kid comes up and shifts in between the Host’s book and the Host’s lap. The Host never hears what the first Swarmer says and normally the first Swarmer is just content with the 1st position since they know competition follows. Then a few seconds later the next Swarmer arrives. There are two words that come from Swarmers in the 2nd position…“I’m hungry”. Then of course the 3rd Swarmer shows up taking advantage of your divided attention and manages a solid nut shot or nipple pinch. If you have more than three Swarmers, it really doesn’t change much from there but the violence starts to get worse…

I’ve really been trying to embrace my Swarmers. After all how can you be disgruntled about your flesh and blood trying to get some hugs off of you?

I’m sure one day I’ll look back on this and long for the days where my kids will want my hugs and kisses. But that day will not be over the next two weeks. We camp north of Chattanooga today at a farm outside the city. It’s gonna be great and my Swarmers will be thriving in this heat. I predict sticky ice cream faces and hands.