As a genealogist, I love my family backwards and forwards. I am delighted by all my family has been (good and bad), and am eager to see how our stories unfold into the future. But as a human, I have to deal with the present. And right now, my present means three elementary-aged kids out of school for the summer.
Mom, can I ask so-and-so to play? Mom, can I build a such and such? Mom, can I fill the pool? Mom, can I have screen time? Mom will you watch me dance? Do gymnastics? Make up ninja moves? Mom, can I go around the block? Mom, what’s for lunch? Mom, what should I do now?
One of my main goals of the summer is to get out of the kids’ way. I want to relinquish some control and accept a little more failure into our lives. Kids’ lives are so orchestrated these days, and I want mine to experience more than I am prepared for. I am hoping they will connect with the world around them and discover their own curiosity. I want magic to happen.
This is going to be hard on two counts.
First, our family calendar is already dense with appointments, practices, parties, camps, and camping.
Second, I have to deal with my inability to get my things done for me.
Things I haven’t done since school let out:
- written anything coherent
Magical things that I have done while distracted from doing my things
- explored rock outcroppings that hid plump orange and purple starfish
- danced at a solstice festival
- raced shoes down a creek
- studied tidal pools and found hermit crabs, eels, and baby starfish the size of garish rings
- flipped rocks to find crabs
- seen deer dawdle and a bald eagle bathe
- walked to an island via a land bridge that only appears for a couple of hours at low tide each day. Perhaps it was a peninsula when I visited?
- bagged a peak (a lovely 3.6 mile hike with three generations of family, a lonely newt, many 6 inch slugs, crystal clear lakes, and purple blooming foxglove.)
- watched the sun set
I am hoping to add my “didn’t-dos” to my “did-dos” soon enough. We will see what the balance of summer brings.