Well, we did it. I knew we'd get here but it came much faster than I thought.
You see, every year as school ends and summer begins, I get a feeling. It's that feeling of freedom from the morning grind, the rush through school and activities, the pain of homework and tests and projects, and the dreaded task of packing lunches. We have our end of the year convocation, our end of the year swim parties, our end of the year goodbyes… and I'm free. I mean, WE – we are free.
And even as we clean out backpacks and plan swim dates, another feeling creeps up on me. That feeling that summer is going to fly by. I try not to overschedule because our school year is full enough. I want summer to be easy and relaxing. Plans seem to materialize and there's always something to do. And I know that the first couple of months are going to zoom by.
In the last 8.5 weeks, we have visited the Chaffee Zoo, the Cat Haven, Aspen Acres (fainting goats!), Forestiere Underground Gardens, Shaver Lake, a week at camp for Silas, archery lessons, vacation bible school, piano lessons, and play dates galore. We've swam, jumped on trampolines, played at the park, and eaten frozen yogurt. It's been fun!
And now, halfway through our ninth week of summer, another feeling has hit me. One of deceleration. I admit it – I'm losing steam. We are at that point in our summer when we've all pied out. It's 109 degrees outside – the boys are wiped out and constantly bickering – and I have zero energy left to plan anything fun. Let's just make it through each day without spilling blood and I'll call it a success.
Not that the boys are interested in going back to school. They don't miss the homework and spelling tests, though they do miss seeing their friends every day. And I don't know that I'm ready to get back to tracking assignments and packing lunches. (Have I mentioned I hate packing lunches?) No, I'm definitely not ready for "back to school" yet – especially when back to school happens in mid-August.
When my sister and I were growing up in the late 70s/early 80s back in Boston, both of my parents worked. Thankfully we lived in the same house as my grandparents so we weren't exactly latchkey kids (it was a three-story house on Quimby Street – we lived on the first floor; my grandparents on the second). My sister and I loved summertime. We played with the other kids on our street. When it rained we put on our swimsuits and ran outside to jump around in the puddles. We took at least one trip down to Cape Cod every summer. We were always with our cousins in Boston or New Jersey or Toronto.
Summer was slow, carefree, almost idyllic. I'm so grateful to my parents for that. I hope my boys can say the same.
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