Summer Mourning
Summer. I used to long for summer. Some moms or dads complain — “the kids are home all day, they drive me nuts”… “Can’t wait for school to start!”
Not me. Even on the worst days when they were at each others’ throats, leaving a trail of destruction through the house and eating so much that I couldn’t keep snacks in stock, I still relished it all. Not saying I didn’t pull my hair out a few times, or that I never yelled, or I that I didn’t incredibly enjoy that first day of school coffee in peace. But in general, I loved summer.
Summertime meant I could take my crew on little adventures to the pool, the zoo, the aquarium, the parks, the movies… wherever we wanted, and whenever we wanted. Sometimes it was planned ahead, but most of the time it was decided each morning.
Each summer morning.
Each summer morning we’d get up, a little late but not too late, and take a poll depending on the weather. We’d make a plan that morning and we’d get ready and off we’d go to a day of fun. It wasn’t always extravagant, in fact it usually wasn’t extravagant. But I considered any time together to be the best kind of time.
In fall of 2011 I went back to work outside of the home, and so the summers of ’12, ’13, ’14, and ’15 were spent in the office. I was fortunate to have a boss who worked with me on flexibility and so the first couple of years I worked each day but the last 2 summers, I had either a couple half-days off each week, or a full day or two off each week. So even though I was working, I still was able to spend a lot of time with the kids (they would sleep til noon anyway) and we had afternoons to go and have our fun. Make our memories.
After my boss retired, I looked forward to the summer of 2016. So excited. So happy to have all these days and all this time with the kids. You see, I knew at that point the sand was running out and these little mess makers would be off to college before I knew it.
But a funny thing, okay, a not so funny thing, happened last year. I had all this time to spend with these kids. I had all these plans of things we would do.
But they had plans of their own…. that didn’t include me.
And this 2017 summer has been even harder. They’ve been gone more, we’ve had less time together. I’ve been even more weepy than usual.
Now, it should be said that I don’t have the type of kids who hate being around me. (Or at least they pretend well enough they have me fooled.) They like to do stuff, ask to do things as a family, and are game for almost anything I come up with. The problem is that we cannot seem to carve out the time, when they are all available, to have these super-fun-days.
There are 4 of them. They each have their friends. They each have their activities. They mow, they babysit, they have so much going on that pinning them all four down for one day of fun is a task that used to be accomplished daily, then weekly, and now… maybe monthly.
So my summer mornings have turned to summer mournings.
Longing for the days it was so simple and easy and they couldn’t drive and they wanted to go watch a movie and get a snowcone and go to the pool. With mom.
Instead it’s “I’m going to so-and-so’s”… “we’re running to Tulsa”… “I have to babysit today”… “after I mow, I’m taking the girlfriend out on a date”… “I’m going to spend the night (which becomes weekend) at a friend’s”….
They even started taking themselves to the waterpark. Without me. As they prepare to leave, I’m frantically packing a bag of waters and snacks to leave in their car, reminding them about extra sunscreen (“I know, mom!”) telling them to stay together (“we will, Mom”), be careful on the big slides (geez, Mom!”), making sure everyone has money (“we have our own, Mom!”)……. I’m just … needing to be needed.
But, I’m not. The only thing they “need” from me is my permission. And I reluctantly give it.
Another summer morning. Another summer mourning.
This happened with fall break a couple years ago. I’ve said before that I used to look forward to fall break. We’d go to haunted houses and pumpkin patches. But now I fight for their time, they take themselves to the haunted houses, and I mandate 30 minutes at the nearest pumpkin patch where I force my 17 year old to take his photo behind the pumpkin cutout. He humors me.
Everyone who knows me, knows I’m a sentimental, emotional, bag of feelings. I always have been and I probably always will be. I know this is some natural weaning method (for me, not the kids) to get used to how life will be when they are out on their own. Maybe it works for some people, maybe it’s even working for me, but it doesn’t feel that way.
School is back in less than a month. I only have a short few weeks to force them in my car and require that we all have some fun together. That’s what I want to do at least. But I’m not sure it’s what I should do. I want to be selfish and make them spend all their time with me.
But I also realize that the older they get, the more their lives are fulfilled without my help or involvement. I think it’s actually what the goal of parenting is supposed to be. It’s the sign that we did something right: they are healthy and independent.
They are starting to live their own lives and have their own fun and accomplish their own goals… without me.
That, my friends, is a hard pill to swallow. I’m still choking on it daily.
So, for those of you with the littles. There are days it’s hard. There are days they wear you THIN. But soak up the memories while you soak up the sun. Breathe in the time before it slips away, and your summer mornings become summer mournings.
Because one day, you’ll be happy and sad at the same time that they turned out so great that they don’t need you as much anymore.
