As a child I loved summer. Not being in school, no homework, hours spent in the old apple tree down the hill reading about far away places and imaginary worlds (my interest in science fiction and fantasy emerged at a very early age). There is something to be said for vegetables plucked fresh from the garden, black berries fresh from the vine and lazy days spent at the swimming pool where the scent of chlorinated water still brings back a flood of fond memories.
As an adult I have this love/hate relationship with summer. I love the fact that it is still light enough in the evening to go running with out fear of not seeing that crack in the sidewalk and falling flat on my face. Not that being able to actually see the crack in the sidewalk would help my general klutziness, but a girl can dream can’t she?
I love spending time outside with my kids, playing in the garden, and cold crisp watermelon leaving sticky trails of juice and seeds all over the front steps. Baseball games, trips to the beach, urban hiking and Greenlake have all formed strong memories of each and every summer.
The one thing that I hate is the increased anxiety over how to get the kids from point A to point B while working full time. Shann’s practice now runs from 9-1, Monday through Thursday. Now that she is in the higher level of gymnastics, it brings on another dimension of the annual struggle of getting her two and from practice. I think that she is finally old enough to take the bus, but at the same time I feel very stressed about that. On the other hand, it is an important live skill that she is going to have to learn sooner or later. The what ifs are piling up in my mind and there isn’t anything that I can do about it.
Part of the responsibility of being a parent is allowing your children the opportunity to try out their own wings. That doesn’t mean that the process is easy. I suppose that it means that I care.