Now, I have two children, and in the name of brutal honesty . . . summer isn’t what it used to be folks.
When my kids were in preschool, summer lasted almost half the year. The kids got out of preschool in May and went back in September, and all those months in between - the ones where it’s too hot to go outside unless you’re within ten steps of a large body of water – well, they grew and stretched and became so daunting to fill that making it to nap time every day felt like a major life accomplishment. The days were never ending and the hours spent in a constant re-creation of those that came previously. I can distinctly remember staring down at a particular puzzle one steamy July day (a cute and very educational puzzle in fact), and wanting nothing more than to tear every piece of it into ten zillion shreds, each one representing the number of days left until I could drop both of my children off at the same place for three whole hours and do WHATEVER I WANTED. We still have that puzzle. I fully intend to put it together with my grandchildren one day. And by one day, I mean ONE day. Not every day, ten times a day, while the sun beats down and the temperatures rise and the preschool doors remain locked and bolted with a sign screaming “HA, now see what a good mom you are lady!”
Our family enjoyed some great summers in more recent years. Ones I even called ‘relaxing.’ The kids were no longer preschoolers and had learned (on occasion) to do the one thing preschoolers won’t – entertain themselves. Of course, that usually meant a lot of clean-up for mom, but hey, washing a dozen towels that were used to make a fort in the basement was a small price to pay for an entire sixty minutes of uninterrupted quiet. Charlie and Libby played well together, and the days didn’t drag on as they once had. They could swim by themselves and read books in their rooms and watch educational television shows when it rained. The three of us could do fun activities together – play board games and bake bread and hike through the woods in our backyard. We could even tackle the everyday tasks of living - taking two children to run errands was no longer a chore – we could have interesting chats in the car and the kids were helpful at the grocery store. We all enjoyed the down time summer provided. My son and daughter found refuge in lazy mornings spent lounging in pajamas, and I found the absence of structure a lovely change from the busy pace of the school year.
This summer, however, we’ve turned a corner, and the road we’re
currently meandering down . . . it has not a relaxing thing about it.
There are many little reasons this summer will not rank up there with my favorites - I've been sick, Libby's been sick, we've had some extended family issues, we didn't go on vacation, our dryer had to be replaced, our undermount sink is falling out of the granite (????) - but there are several big ones that have really had an impact. The first . . . the ten
year-old boy and the seven year-old girl I live with? Yea, they don’t have much in common these
days. Charlie has clearly decided his
masculinity can no longer tolerate playing baby dolls and Libby has zero interest in learning to catch a lacrosse ball. There is a HUGE difference of opinion on what
constitutes fun around here this summer, and it translates into lots of
“Moooommmmmm, there’s nothing to doooooooooo.”
I came up with what seemed like a great solution - I had both kids make a list of all the fun things they could choose to
do when they couldn’t find anything to do.
Y’all, they spent more time making their lists than they have doing
ANYTHING on them.
The second reason our summer is creeping by has to do with the fact
that my children no longer consider hanging with mom a desirable activity. When I ask my kids to go to the grocery store, it’s as though I’ve asked to give them a hundred shots in sixty
seconds. Their arms flail and their faces
contort and the sounds that come out of their mouths as they contemplate a forty-five
minute excursion to buy food they will eat for the next few days is
nothing short of hilarious. At least it
would be if I didn’t have to then force them into the car to make that
forty-five minute round trip because, hey, food is kind of a necessity. I don’t know what is going on at my local
Publix, but apparently, the employees are finding a way to torture my children
behind my cart as I stroll through the aisles. Not to mention the fact that any and all car rides have become my own form of torture, and since passing the time with mom is no longer a valid option for my kids, I have spent the majority of this summer carting them around to the many places they want to go. I drive all over town while they sit in the back seat and tell me the music I listen to is awful, I drive too slow, and my car is boring. Good times, my friends . . . good times.
The third reason summer sorta sucks (sorry, I said there would be
brutal honesty), can be summed up in one word that has never been discussed so
much by Atlanta residents as it has in the last few months. WEATHER.
I’m pretty sure it’s all my fault.
I got a puppy, and since then, it’s rained. It’s rained and rained and rained and rained
and rained and rained and rained and there are muddy paw prints all over my
kitchen every day of every week and the backyard is like soup and the pool is
always closed because of thunder and the fireworks on July 4th had
to be rescheduled for the first time in my entire life and for the love of all
things hot and sunny WHEN IT IS EVER GOING TO STOP RAINING?????????????????
The fourth reason our summer has been a bust is also my fault. My usually adept planning skills failed me
this year. My brain was not functioning properly
as I prepared for the summer months, because I neglected to schedule even one
day in which both my children would be occupied with activities that didn’t
include me. I wanted some one-on-one
time with each child this summer. “They’re
just growing so fast,” I told my family and friends, “I don’t get enough time with them during the
school year." Yep. I said that. All my fault. Both kids did attend camps in June. They just never went at the same time. NEVER.
One of my children has been with me almost
every minute of the summer - talking, needing, begging at high decibels for me
to fill his or her time with the most exciting activities ever created while avoiding
any and all trips to the grocery store. Trust
me. I will not let this happen
again. One-on-one time is overrated.
There is a final reason I’m not diggin’ the summer of 2013. It is a device with a name. The name starts with an ‘I’ and ends with a ‘Pad’
and I want to kill it. I want to
strangle it and mangle it and destroy it.
I literally daydream about running the thing down with my car – back and
forth, over and over again like it’s a venomous five foot snake in the driveway
threatening the existence of my offspring.
Parenting is hard, y’all. My
children are the greatest joys in my life, but they are also the greatest
challenges. They have brought more
smiles than I will ever be able to count, but the tears they’ve brought are almost
as plentiful. There is only so much
energy a mom has. Only so much patience
and enthusiasm and courage to do the right thing even when it’s not the easy
thing. And if there was ever an
invention that has made parenting more difficult, it is the invention of the ‘I’
_____ (fill in the blank with whatever ‘I’ device your children constantly want
to use no matter how many times you’ve told them no).
Please don’t tell me about all the great educational games the IPad has
to offer. My kids don’t want to play
those games. They are old enough to know
that math problems are not fun just because you can solve them on a touch
screen. And yes, I know all about the
parental controls and firewalls you can set up on your ‘I’ devices - we’ve done
that. Our kids know our own rules as well,
in case you were about to mention the idea of setting limits. Basically, they’re only allowed to use the
IPad to play useless games that interfere with quality family time and promote the
need for instant gratification. We don’t
allow Charlie and Libby to use the IPad without asking or to take it to their
rooms. We don’t allow them to do
searches of any kind or peruse UTube. We
don’t allow them to text their grandparents or cousins without permission, or
have email or Instagram accounts. They
aren’t allowed to download games or music without talking to us about it first. But here's the thing . . . it doesn’t matter how many parameters we set or how diligent we are in monitoring our children, our attempt to control their exposure will never take away the fact that when you hand your child a machine that provides them with access to the entire world, you can never fully relax when they are holding it. And you can count on their desire to hold it as often as possible.
Well. There you have it, friends. The doom and gloom of my summer just came
crashing down all over your lemonade stand.
Please forgive me.
Next year, summer will be different. Next year, I will lower my expectations when it comes to
sibling rivalry. Next year, I will plan
camps that coincide. Next year, I will vacation in Seattle for the sunny weather, do all my grocery shopping on weekends, and secretly
tamper with all ‘I’ chargers so the IPad hovers at 0% power. Next year, summer
will be absolutely amazing, and one month from now, when the alarm has to be set every
morning, the homework has to be completed every night, and I miss my kids terribly because
they are gone every day, I’ll be counting down the months until summer 2014 arrives.
Until then, I'm going to rest on this verse from James 1:
Consider it pure joy, brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know the testing of your faith produces perseverance.
I look forward to having perseverance, Lord. Thank you for testing my faith this summer. Thank you for allowing me to be home with my children even when I'd rather be anywhere else. Thank you for the life-giving rain. Thank you for the incredible blessings of an automobile to get us where we want to go and the financial ability to purchase food. Thank you, Lord for providing trials that might one day make me more like You. I love you.
P.S. If you could make all 'I' devices all over the planet simultaneously disintegrate today, that would be fabulous.:) Amen.
