It has been one of the greatest summers of my motherhood.
But I am not sad to see it go.
We’ve been to all the movies. I liked Kubo and the Two Strings best with Pete’s Dragon a close second. We swam in pools, lakes, rivers and oceans. We camped and hoteled and grandma’d. Went to bed at 10 and woke up at 9. We ate a lot of ice cream.
We are fat and tan and sassy.
It was a wonderful season, but the wheel is turning and I am ready for the greatest season of all: SCHOOL.
Blessings to the teachers whose school year started weeks ago with trainings and planning and classroom setting up. I see you.
But please, do not expect to see me until at least October.
My ears are bleeding from the 13 million times they have had to process the word Mom since June 10. Or Can I have a snack? Or Can we do something fun today?
My back is aching from loading the dishwasher twelve times a day with thrice the number of drinking glasses as children in the house.
My brain is weak from trying to solve the mathematical conundrums of laundry, like the ratio of shorts to underwear (many vs. hardly any) and family word problems (If five people are going to the pool and mom asks you to pack towels for everyone, how many towels do you need? SHOW YOUR WORK.)
My heart must recover from things like this cup of yuck I found on my hutch:
“What in the HIGH HOLY HEAVEN is that??” I thought to myself. Then I called for Gabe.
“Oh yeah” he said. “I wanted to see what would happen if I rehydrated a piece of beef jerky.”
And if that wasn’t enough, Annie ran up the stairs yelling “Is it swimming??”
Or this hide and seek playdate run amuck:
YES, I took a picture. I’ve learned to grab my phone when someone screams. My friend said I’m like a war photographer. But who’s going to believe this stuff without proof?
I need a moment, just a month-long moment to recharge.
And then come October 1, armed with a pumpkin spice latte and orange cranberry muffin, I’ll be ready.