Summer is going too quickly, if you ask me. (I probably say this largely because I am a working mother who doesn’t spend all day listening to my kids whine at me that they’re bored.)
I love the last few weeks of school when everyone knows you’re just coasting into the best season … and I love the start of June, when it feels like you have forever to stay up late and eat snowballs for dinner, like summer might never have to end.
Then we hit the Fourth of July, truly the thick of it, but it still feels like you have weeks and weeks to take it easy, plenty of time to pick berries and eat sweet corn and tomatoes and ice cream, and the sun doesn’t set until after 8 p.m. and it’s glorious.
But suddenly it’s the last two weeks of summer and you feel like you somehow have to cram in everything you kept saying you were going to do this summer – the day trips, the staycations, the family time – and also you have less than a month to emotionally prepare for the height of what they keep telling us is going to be a “worse than average” hurricane season.
I’m not ready for this. I mean, yeah, I’ve ordered new school uniforms (although I’m not throwing away that stained white polo; I’m just stashing it in the back of the drawer until after winter break, when I feel like she can wear it again without anyone raising a judgy eyebrow) and I’m making sure summer reading gets done, but I could easily do with at least one more month of summer and no more months of hurricane season.
Summer isn’t quite over yet, though, so I’m planning to squeeze out every last second: eat all the late-night snowballs and tomato sandwiches, let my kids sleep in till 11, sit on the porch and watch thunderstorms roll in.
And I’ll keep my fingers crossed good and tight that the hurricanes pass us by this year!
