Last week of vacation. Words we do not utter in this household.

There are certain words that will not be spoken in this house until a week or so from now.  I will fine anyone that says them to me in the next week.  I will close my eyes when I'm at Target or Wal-mart and see those ridiculous displays indicating that something might be coming in the near future affecting all of the children and teachers in this state.  I will put my fingers in my ears and hum loudly whenever I hear about it on the radio or in public.

Don't be surprised if you see me running the other way and screaming if you ask me about it this week.

I don't care if it embarrasses you in public.  

But, the truth is, something is knocking on my front door.  It's formal like that because we aren't the type of friends that I would allow it in the back door.  Because my back door looks at the river and indicates summer and fun and vacation and all the delightful things that can happen at any time during the season.  

And then, once I answer the front door, I know that it's going to barge its way into my closet and start pulling out all of my clothes I haven't seen since the middle of June.   And those uncomfortable shoes that won't separate my Went to the Markets from the Ones That Stayed Homes.  It will shake its head at my shorts and tank tops and fun, flirty dresses and skirts. It will bring out slips and Spanx.  Jerk. 

And it will remind me that vacation binge eating has now ended for 2012 as it makes it way into my kitchen.  No more free-ranging on the snacks.  Back to yogurt and 

Wheat Thins and cheese wedges.  No more stopping to do whatever it was that popped into my head.  No more folding clothes while watching morning television.  No, no, no.  Back to holding it for the next 35 minutes even though I've chugged water like a racehorse, listening to my stomach growl when it's close to my scheduled eating time only to wolf everything down in order to rush to the next thing, and needing caffeine like an addict.  Back to running the laundry like a crazy woman in the evenings and folding clothes while watching evening television--and wondering who let it all multiply after only one day.  

I will dislike it, I will cut my eyes at it, and I will say bad things about it.  It will make me go to bed at a decent hour, wake up before dawn's crack, and become a social hermit because when I'm home at the end of the day I'm too exhausted to be pretty and funny.  I will crave silence after a long day of exposing my ears to noise.  

It makes me hold my babies closer because somehow this guest is a time stealer--and I wonder if this year will go by just as quickly as the last ones have; leaving me with bigger feet and more fingers raised when someone asks how old my kids are.  And wondering what happened to my age as well.  Sometimes I feel personally cheated by the time warp that occurs from end of August to beginning of June.  

But, this week, I'm not inviting the guest in.  Nope, nada, no.  We're going to the pool in a few minutes, we're going to wear our pjs as long as we want to, and we're going to take naps.  We're going to watch movies, we're going to eat with friends, and we're going to have a good time.  

And in a few weeks we'll unwrap the presents the Uninvited Guest will bring.  We'll listen to her sales pitch and semi-believe the good things she promises.  We'll be glad because she'll offer cooler weather and CHRISTMAS SEASON 2012 and the golden carrot:  snow days.  We'll be reminded how much we love jeans and long-sleeved shirts and boots and tights and scarves and all of those other fun things we can't stand to wear in the summer.    She'll gather up all of these pesky mosquitoes and humidity and let our hair bounce back to its normal condition after we've beat it into submission during the summer months.  She'll remind us of the decadent desserts and yummy warm beverages we'll enjoy.  And she'll remind us that she's not that bad of a guest.  

But for right now, I'm shutting the front door and locking her out.  

Because I'm not giving her any more than her allotted time.