For the record, I have no idea how any parent accomplishes any kind of work in the summer.
I remember this feeling from the first few months after Sophie joined our family—I didn’t necessarily have more to do, but the time in which to do it was suddenly occupied by a needy, albeit adorable, little person. We’re out of milk-smitten newborns around here, but the children of the house still have a way of curling my time around their pinkie fingers and then using it as a jump rope over which one of them will invariably fall and blame her sister who will protest and up the volume ante until both girls are trading reproach at a decibel generally reserved for banshees.
If our livelihood depended on it (and I’m a little embarrassed that it doesn’t), I’m sure I could find hours in these dragonfly days for writing. However, that would require me to give up a thing or two—
chatting each evening with our balcony garden… coaxing the strawberries to climb, pinching off fragrant basil blooms, harvesting nut brown coriander, selecting fresh chilis and the brightest daisies for our dinner table… pruning, watering, and befriending each homespun leaf—
busting out the pens, paper, and bookworm stickers after breakfast to a chorus of cheers and teaching the girls about the alchemy of letters into words… singing [rather terribly] about short vowel sounds, cheering for silent “e,” and watching a new universe unfold in Natalie’s star struck eyes—
maintaining my status as worthy foe to the army of ants living under the doorframe by keeping the place crumb-free, popsicle-puddle-free, and ever ready for guests… being able to invite friends over on a whim for board games and cold drinks, pasta salad and conversation into the night… sustaining the peaceful and social home that makes our family thrive—
riding the tide of childhood with a pair of sunblown girls… taking them camping and swimming and playground hopping, settling onto the floor with them to work puzzles and Perler beads, helping them [help me] whip up desserts and steep iced tea, reading books by the armful, sampling gelato, lazing around in hammocks—
catching up with family, editing photographic evidence of our adventures, reminding my fingers how to dance on piano keys, putting together birthday gifts for loved ones, nibbling the haze-ripened moon with honey and wine, attending to the precious minutiae of motherhood…
Come September, we’ll be on to a new phase of life, a both-girls-in-school kind of phase. And while I’m looking forward to the free time with a hungry glee, it also makes my throat prick against the back of my eyes until I can’t see quite straight. Sorry, writing (and reading and budgeting and blog-catch-upping), but you’ll have to wait. I’m busy accomplishing summertime with my two darling banshees.
