Cheers to a '90's Summer

If you long for slow and simple, this one is for you.

(For those here for the first time after reading my latest essay, Remember Me, from Coffee and Crumbs: welcome! If you haven’t read the whole summer collection yet, I hope you can carve out some time to do so. It is a stunning work of art by some of my favorite fellow creative moms. )

Confession time: summer is not my favorite. Even though we Coloradans spend an obnoxious amount of time covered in snow and painstakingly wait for the sun to emerge again, it’s still hard for me to adjust to the change in season.

I am a grump in summer. Our house doesn’t have air conditioning, and we haven’t yet been able to shell out the small fortune for a local pool membership. We survive on Otter Pops, an inflatable backyard pool, Friday trips to the snow cone truck and Sonic slushies (half off always in the app btw!) My seven-year-old loves the go with the flow ease of summer. My almost six-year-old rebels against the lack of routine. My newly four-year-old is just happy to have his brothers home (and mom is happy he has playmates during the day for a few months.) Finding a summer schedule that meets each of our needs each day is hard.

I think back to my summers as a kid growing up in Central Valley California. I was on a recreational competitive swim team from ages 3-18 so I don’t remember a summer without a pool. A lot of my friends had backyard pools and we would rotate whose house kids got dropped off at, and we swam until until the sun went down. My aunt was a recreation worker at a local neighborhood pool, and my cousins and I would get dropped off in the morning, given 75 cents for the ice cream truck that would come by, and my aunt would take us home when the pool closed. Summer meant water and water meant summer.

Now I’m the mom and water equals summer means my dining room floor is perpetually covered in mud and wet swim suits. It means keeping the minivan stocked with bathing suits, sunscreen, and towels so I can say “yes!” when my kids ask to stop at the splash pad on our way home from the library. It means getting the Costco pack of water balloons and reminding the kids a dozen times a day to pick up the popped balloons from the lawn. (Side note: has anyone tried these reusable water balloons? Highly considering adding these for summer.)

Last year, I hyper focused on making summer magical. Something about “you only have 18 summers with your kids” and blah blah blah.

I believed it.

We did the swim lessons, and the road trip, and the day camps, and the playdates, and, and, and. I tricked myself into thinking I would get the same amount of my own work done when all three kids were home 24/7, and I panicked when it didn’t. (Shout out to all my homeschool moms for whom that is the regular- I see you!) I tried to fill every waking moment with something.

This year I am embracing simple.

Our children are our children for our entire lives, not just 18 summers.

We’ve signed up for a VBS and a day camp or two still. We just got back from a road trip to Texas. (Since, after our inaugural road trip last year the kids proved they were now stellar car travelers. We once drove from Colorado to California and a certain toddler threw up THE ENTIRE WAY. They were NOT stellar car travelers then. We were scarred for a moment there.)

This summer I am letting my kids be kids. Popsicles before dinner. Family lunches with dad at the office. Digging for worms after a summer hailstorm. Staying in pajamas all day. Letting ice cream drip down the cone. Riding scooters around the block. Blowing bubbles in the driveway. Saying yes to the splash pads and playgrounds. Savoring breakfast together instead of rushing out the door. Battling with water guns. Covering the kitchen table in LEGOs. Staying up to watch the sun set over the majestic Rocky Mountains. And yes, screen time. You may watch every Toy Story movie back to back. (But tomorrow you WILL be outside all morning thankyouverymuch.)

We are sprinkling in learning some responsibilities like cooking eggs for breakfast, learning to tie our shoes, and how to make our beds. We are doing simple chore charts and the library summer reading challenge because summer slump is real and mama needs a l i t t l e bit of structure.

But this summer I want to remember what is truly magical about summer is the togetherness it provides.

The empty calendar means a full table. The pajamas all day means snuggling on the couch and realizing how many new freckles now pepper my son’s nose ( last count: 13). The backyard pool time means the sound of three giggling brothers becomes tattooed on my heart anew. And when those 18 summers are gone, more summers will come, and I will be a happy mom ready to make more memories for as long as the Lord gives us breath.

So here’s your permission to embrace a slow and simple summer. A ‘90s summer if you will.

Love,

The girl who isn’t mad the pumpkin section is already on display at Hobby Lobby.