Goodbye Summer

I site here, on the deck of the beach house, drinking a cup of coffee, feeling the chill in the air that heralds the change of season, knowing the beginning of school is just a few short days away. Have you ever seen that Staples commercial where the mother is running through the aisles, gleefully tossing school supplies into a cart, her sullen children trudging behind her, all while "It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year" plays? Bet you think that's exactly how I feel after eighty-five days of summer vacation.

And you would be wrong.

I hear the collective, "Whaaaat?", from all of you, since I began the summer fearing for my sanity, having decided to only send the girls to one week of camp and, otherwise, entertain them at home and, save for the two weeks they were in Florida, that would mean a lot of togetherness. But the only way to express it, dear readers, is to say I am absolutely bereft at the thought of this summer coming to an end. In a word, this summer has been magical.

In June , I was terrified that I would have the same experience I did last year. I mistakenly tried to keep up with my daily routine of laundry, cooking and cleaning, all with three small children underfoot and, with the added stress of the move, all I succeeded in doing was driving everyone mad. I decided that this summer I would surrender to the season and slow down. This summer would be about me and my kids.* Yes, I did put The Summer Commandments into effect, which are, seemingly, the opposite of slowing down, but they helped tremendously. What I mean by slowing down is if the laundry didn't get done, or we had eggs for dinner, I just told myeslf, "It's summer." Doing this, we were able to grab this summer by the balls. We conquered the beach four times, The Land of Make Believe twice, the Crayola Factory, the poorly named Please Touch Children's Museum in Philadelphia, Central Park and the Bronx Zoo.

Am I tired? Sure. Is my house a wreck? Definitely. But nothing is better than the feeling of being safely back in the van** ready to drive home, all three of my children glassy-eyed with fatigue from a day of summer fun, having created a memory. I know that these days are numbered. #1 turned eight this summer, and while she is still the ingenue she has always been, her penchant for Hannah Montana music and demand for privacy when dressing, are signs that soon, one of my babies will no longer be a baby and someday, sneaking into bed to read with with me at night after her sister has fallen asleep will be replaced by trying to text her friends under the covers***. I realized this summer, I have spent a lot of time in the last eight years bitching about how much work it is having my children around all the time, when, really, this time is a gift.

This summer. this Summer of Us, as I called it, is quite possibly the best summer I have ever had. This is the summer, instead of picking the girls up, sunburned and cranky from some camp where terrifyingly young teenagers were charged with the corralling large groups of small children, I was a part of it all. This is the summer #1 went off the diving board and the water slide in the big pool, #2 actually put her whole head under water (she previously had the water affinity of a hairless cat, which was a bit of an impediment to swimming) and Little Man learned how to use a boogie board. I read Little House on the Prairie with #1, took #2 to get her ears pierced and rode a camel with Little Man.

To quote our favorite book of the summer, When the Fireflies Come, "Summer is almost over. Sometimes it seems like the dasy come and go like the light of the fireflies...day-night, day-night, day-night...". It all went so fast. And now in a few short days I will find myself in the kitchen, hands covered in peanut butter, screaming for everyone to brush their teeth or we're going to be late, and I want to cry. But this summer will be my template for all summers going forward since I know my kids enjoyed it too. Little Man described it exactly on the beach yesterday. This summer, "we fit togehter like a puzzle."

*Poor H, slaving away in the city. Thanks for makin' the pay-pah!
**Before it became the useless piece of shit it is currently, sitting dead in the driveway. That's an added bonus to returning from vacation. Having to shuttle all three kids around in the Jetta. Can we say "clown car"?
***Which i describe for dramatic effect. Like I won't be confiscating her phone every night to obsessively check her text messages. Controlling? Yes. But will I wind up with a twelve year old who sends naked pcitures of her herself? Hells no.