The juggling has begun. For every one of my waking hours.
From sunrise early bird middle son to late nights owl firstborn.
All 4 cubs are under my wings. For better and for worse. The lovely and the uh-gly.
I have been preparing myself.
For the next 89 days. (Yes, I looked that up.)
I have been training myself to look for the joy, in the chaos of this season.
in the openness that summer break and long summer days can bring.
Sweet sunshine hours.
Freedoms.
But "Some of my other multiple personalities feel differently.
(Whitney Fleming)
Summer with children at home means, my mind is CONSTANTLY whirling around, speed of light.
Requests, needs, uh-ohs, bickerings...
The absolute BLUR.
In that light, I am basking in the freedom and realness and honesty this writer's words bring:
...I will let you do fun, messy stuff even though it drives me crazy. I will let you play in the mud, bake cookies, try elaborate crafts, run in the sprinklers, and do science experiments. You are growing up so fast and I know there’s not much more time left.
...I may even try to participate, but mama still has to pay the bills. And check Facebook.
...I will let you have a lemonade stand, go on bike rides to get ice cream, climb trees, and go to the pool as often as possible, even when I want to do other important stuff, like vacuum or write about what funny thing you said to me that day. Because these were all important things in my childhood.
...I will try to have patience when you all poke and prod and annoy and tattle and tackle and push and bust into my room saying ridiculous things like “Mom, she won’t stop looking at me” or “She won’t give me my underwear back!”
But no promises, I’m only human.
...I will remember you worked hard this year, did well, and you deserve a break.
That I will participate in the bike rides, in the games, in the mess. Because sometimes I don’t do things because I forget how much fun they were when I was your age... how much fun they still are now.
...I will not go bat crazy when you didn’t make your bed (again), put your dish in the sink (again), left your games out (again) or spilled your milk for the thousandth time. These are little things that happen and I know some parents would give their left arms to go through these things with their kids again.
I will have gratitude. After I get my zen back.
...Like you, I’m trying to grow and learn and be better. I’ll give you a break, if you give me one too.
(Whitney Fleming, https://herviewfromhome.com/my-contract-with-my-kids-this-summer-break/)
(Whitney Fleming, https://herviewfromhome.com/my-contract-with-my-kids-this-summer-break/)
I give myself a lot of pressure, I'm beginning to recognize. After TEN years of being a parent.
That the beginning of summertime feels like New Year's, like I need a resolution and that I've got to be just right, start of just so.
That I need to be ALL in or I'm really not in at all:
Attitude, energy, meeting needs. Meeting needs while sometimes ignoring my own until it gets ugly and something's gotta give.
But. I'm going to try to relax that pressure these next 89 days.
To acknowledge right now, that there will be wonderful, and there will be horrible.
And neither is defining.
Life is life, and there will be all the extremes and in-betweens and that is the journey.
There will be grumpy me and there will be tender me.
There will be bursts of energy and there will be weary solitude.
And lots of chocolate and ice cream and shutting doors to each other for breathing space. And lots of smiles and quick touches to let my dear ones know I am here, they are my small cubs. Whether they are a decade old or still in diapers.
"Summer is for noticing.
Noticing what happens when I move slower.
Summer is here for now.
It will not last long.
Like the rest of time, it refuses to halt at my command.
I ONLY GET 18, SO I WILL TAKE EACH MOMENT THIS SUMMER.
I’ll hold it, taste it, feel it, fully enter.
We will laugh hard and play loud.
With each passing moment, I will say,
'Thank you, God, for just one more.'”
(Renee Robinson, http://renee-robinson.com/we-
As for us,
I am anticipating:
The blur.
Reading hours, long and quiet... (fingers crossed!)
Leaning into each other on the sofa.
Lantern light on top bunk.
Sunny van rides.
Under the comforter on the queen size bed.
Sorted into different parts of the house when the noise is too much.
Creating random recipes (or non-recipes) at random times of the day.
Making our summer bucket lists.
Visiting grandparents, mountains.
Backyard baseball. Indoors basketball.
UNO. Memory games. Puzzles.
Legos.
Harry Potter.
Begging for the pool. Juggling this with a littlest one's napping afternoons.
Boys begging for screen time. Girl's gibberish requests for who-knows-what.
Bathtimes. (Oh my, the water bill.)
Gatorade. Fruit snacks. Wrappers and empty cups.
Ice cream sundaes.
Road trips.
Alarm clocks turned off.
Conversations at night.
Eye contact.
Sitting close.
The music of Backyardigans and Minnie Mouse and Paw Patrol and NBA theme song and Star Wars and...
The blur.
My spirit needing introvert solitude, battling to fit that in. (For everyone's well-being!)
That the beginning of summertime feels like New Year's, like I need a resolution and that I've got to be just right, start of just so.
That I need to be ALL in or I'm really not in at all:
Attitude, energy, meeting needs. Meeting needs while sometimes ignoring my own until it gets ugly and something's gotta give.
But. I'm going to try to relax that pressure these next 89 days.
To acknowledge right now, that there will be wonderful, and there will be horrible.
And neither is defining.
Life is life, and there will be all the extremes and in-betweens and that is the journey.
There will be grumpy me and there will be tender me.
There will be bursts of energy and there will be weary solitude.
And lots of chocolate and ice cream and shutting doors to each other for breathing space. And lots of smiles and quick touches to let my dear ones know I am here, they are my small cubs. Whether they are a decade old or still in diapers.
Noticing what happens when I move slower.
Summer is here for now.
It will not last long.
Like the rest of time, it refuses to halt at my command.
I ONLY GET 18, SO I WILL TAKE EACH MOMENT THIS SUMMER.
I’ll hold it, taste it, feel it, fully enter.
We will laugh hard and play loud.
With each passing moment, I will say,
'Thank you, God, for just one more.'”
(Renee Robinson, http://renee-robinson.com/we-
As for us,
I am anticipating:
The blur.
Reading hours, long and quiet... (fingers crossed!)
Leaning into each other on the sofa.
Lantern light on top bunk.
Sunny van rides.
Under the comforter on the queen size bed.
Sorted into different parts of the house when the noise is too much.
Creating random recipes (or non-recipes) at random times of the day.
Making our summer bucket lists.
Visiting grandparents, mountains.
Backyard baseball. Indoors basketball.
UNO. Memory games. Puzzles.
Legos.
Harry Potter.
Begging for the pool. Juggling this with a littlest one's napping afternoons.
Boys begging for screen time. Girl's gibberish requests for who-knows-what.
Bathtimes. (Oh my, the water bill.)
Gatorade. Fruit snacks. Wrappers and empty cups.
Ice cream sundaes.
Road trips.
Alarm clocks turned off.
Conversations at night.
Eye contact.
Sitting close.
The music of Backyardigans and Minnie Mouse and Paw Patrol and NBA theme song and Star Wars and...
The blur.
My spirit needing introvert solitude, battling to fit that in. (For everyone's well-being!)
"I pray the Lord grows me more and more in recognizing what matters most and EMBRACING THE PEOPLE OVER THE PERFECTION. In the midst of the mess, embrace the abundance."
TIME. To just enjoy the gift of time as it passes.
EIGHTY-NINE DAYS.
JUST 89 days.
Under our wings. While they are still nearby.
And to take each day and whisper "it is well with my soul."
TIME. To just enjoy the gift of time as it passes.
EIGHTY-NINE DAYS.
JUST 89 days.
Under our wings. While they are still nearby.
And to take each day and whisper "it is well with my soul."
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