I love the fluidity of summer. How everyone just moves in and out of the house and just lets the mood of the day take them. Yes, I know, it’s not technically summer, as Pie likes to remind me (“Is it really summer yet? How many more days till my birthday?”). But it feels like it. This is the year my kids are old enough to come and go on their own more or less, coming and going being defined as allowed to head out the backyard by themselves or go across the street to play with Tab. Doodles is allowed to ride his bike as long as he has a buddy with him. It’s the first year I’ve ever had to ask, “Where are the kids?” and really not known. I’ll call to the neighbor, “Have you seen my kids?” and generally the answer is, “They’re down the street” or “In my backyard.” It’s a relaxing feeling.
We’re definitely slipping into summer mode–kids up later, less TV (yea!), lots of popsicles. Kindergarten Connections for Pie–where she starts to meet other kids who will be in her grade–starts this coming Saturday, although I personally will miss it as I’ll be on a girls’ trip to NYC. School year is winding down, which means I’m making the preschool class video, trying to finalize camp plans, floundering at making vacation plans (we cannot get our act together to figure out where to go).
Of course this also means I’ve slipped into summer dress. Which pretty much involves leaving my shorts on the floor and then the next morning evaluating if they’re clean enough to make it another day. Usually they are, except for those days when I’ve been gardening (I’m so into gardening! I have three types of tomatoes plants; lettuce, carrots, onions, and squash that are all growing from seed; red peppers; basil; cucumbers; eggplant; and I’m trying potatoes in a garbage bag, and they are growing like crazy!). Except that I now have the fashion police living in the house. I put on my shorts. For only the second day in a row, I might add. And that little girl came in after I was fully dressed, rubbed her eyes from sleep, took one look at me, and exclaimed, horrified, “Mommy! You wore those yesterday!” Why, yes. Yes, I did. What’s the point of being a suburban haus frau if you can’t wear your clothes multiple days in a row?
In general, Memorial Day Weekend was a big success. I had an uber-relaxing weekend. It’s what happens when you self-medicate. On Sunday, I had a BBQ that I was very much looking forward to, but I had the nigglings of a headache and my foot was hurting, so I popped a couple of Advil. Only about three minutes after I took them, I thought, “Hey! I don’t remember our Advil being blue.” I checked. They’re not blue. They’re orange. Those blue pills? Tylenol P.M. My state of mind? A happy place. Turns out you can fight the Tylenol P.M. for a good many hours (might even be longer if you’re not drinking) before finally having to cave to the goodness of a bed. I don’t know which was better: that gooey feeling or not hearing even the slightest peep of Adam putting the kids to bed.
The joys of summer. Bring it on!
