So. I’m a week into summer. And I can’t get enough of my kiddos.
I have something I’d like to talk about. Something that’s kinda bugged me for years. Basically since I had to step back into the classroom and leave my babies to the care of others.
Would you mind, if just for a moment, step up onto the proverbial soapbox?
Please? Like pretty please with sugar and a cherry on top?
Please don’t joke about how you can’t wait for the summer to end so you can send your children back to school.
I promise. I get it.
Breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Around the clock. Day in and day out. God forbid it rains for days. Legos from the front door to the back door. Arts and crafts glued to the table. The Mt. Everest of summer laundry. And good grief the sibling arguments reach their pinnacle in the July for sure!
I really do understand.
Our kids can drive us literally in sane. Or at least to Target for chocolate and retail therapy. I know. I’ve experienced both.
Summer can be hard. Because kids don’t come with an easy button.
The monotony of the days, tied together with the heat and loosened structure can be difficult for anyone.
There are mommas out there that would give all they had to spend a summer with their children. There are also momma’s, like me, who teach ten months out of the year when all I really want to do is stay at home.
And let’s be clear—for an incredible number of mommas—work is not a choice.
And even though it’s not a choice, I do love my job.
I can’t wait for summer.
Yes, there’s the break from work. But really? It’s the time with my children I can’t wait for.
And my heart hurts a little when I hear you trying to get rid of yours after only a few days into the summer.
We all need a break from our kids sometimes. We really do. And in no way am I suggesting that to want some time off from mothering wrong.
But semantics matter.
You can talk about the hard. You can talk about the crazy. You can talk about the very worst parts of summertime. But please don’t wish for your children to walk too quickly back into the classroom.
We only have them for so long.
My Ella girl? She’s 13. I have six summers left. Six before high school ends. And each one slips faster through my fingers like water rushing toward rapids.
I can’t hold on. It’s impossible.
So I’m trying to enjoy, to delight.
I’m not here to tell you to savor every moment or some crazy-talk like that. I’m not about to savor tantrums and sass and exhaustion.
I am here to remind you to list the grateful.
The recognition of moments we get to have with our children.
To realize the blessing of days spent in pajamas and mornings spent at the park. To know there is a workforce of moms that dropped their little ones off at summer camp this morning, desperately yearning for summer days at home.
I’m learning when I am purposeful in my thanks, I discover the deep joy hidden beneath the chaos and the sticky floors. When I take time for gratitude, I remember the beauty my children bring to this life.
So when you step on your last Lego and curse the day those tiny plastics from hell were made and your day rivals Alexandar’s terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day, take a few moments to thank.
Sneak into your little tornado’s bedroom, pull the blanket close around his chubby chin, and breathe him in deep. Watch his peace with wonder and thank God you were chosen for this moment.
You will find yourself no longer wishing the day away, but rather desperate to keep the moment forever.
Summer days can be hard days.
But soldier on, warrior mom.
Because these days are also the fading days.