We’re midway through our summer vacation and the word “bored” has come up countless times already. For a generation of kids that has summer camp choices out the wazoo, I say, “you don’t know what being bored looks like!”
Perhaps by virtue of growing up at the beach, or by being raised in a family without bucketloads of disposable income, my friends and I learned how to occupy our time in the summer without intervention from our parents. If we dared to utter the “b” word, our parents would open the screen door and tell us not to get hit by it on our way outside. They didn’t arrange playdates for us before kicking us into the outdoors, either. And we certainly didn’t have to wonder if any of our friends would be “available”. We just walked (or biked — gasp —by ourselves) around the neighborhood picking up friends along the way. We made our own fun. And it was fun. Continue reading
I’ve just come back from tucking my son, six, into bed. We snuggled up under his brown comforter, in his baseball-themed bedroom, and read stories about soup-making animals and art-making kids. When story time came to a close, I wrapped my arms around his small frame from behind and planted a kiss upon his cheek. Pulling him closer to me, I whispered in his ear, “You are my sweet, sweet, boy. I just love you so much.” “I love you too, Mama,” he replied. A few minutes passed and we just held onto each other there in silence. My busy boy—my soccer playing, basketball dribbling, lego-building boy, who always seems to be on the go—was here in my arms, quiet, letting me love on him. I pulled him closer, breathing him in. It was delicious.
Then out of nowhere he begins sobbing. My first thought was that something had happened at school earlier that day and he was reliving it now, in the silence, and struggling with whether and how to tell me what had had happened. He had more than once been on the receiving end of a certain bully’s ire last year, so, it was plausible.
“What’s wrong, Bud?,” I ask, “Did something happen today at school?” His small frame shakes as he cries harder.
“Something just popped into my head that you died.” Continue reading
The finished dining room!
Yesterday was what you might call, hectic. Most days start off a little rushed in order to get the kids off to school on time, but after the drop-off, there is usually a bit of a lull where I can come back home, eat some breakfast, clean up breakfast, straighten up, etc., and even, oh, I don’t know, find the time to write a little something. While some of the craziness was self-imposed (taking on big projects or forgetting items that caused me to lose time), what follows is a pretty faithful account of my day yesterday. I wanted to write it down as a timeline so that I can stop being so hard on myself when I can’t seem to do it all. Because, as the evidence shows, I do get a fair amount done most of the time.