I love summer. I always have. It’s hands-down, my favourite time of year
I love the heat. Going outside without having to think about whether or not you’re wearing enough layers. Not even bringing a sweater with you.
And then there are the sounds. That buzz from some insect that fills the air on those hot July days. People mowing their lawns.
The smell of rain on hot concrete.
I know that summer isn’t officially over for another couple of weeks, but it makes me sad to think that fall will be here soon to remind us that summer’s evil stepsister, winter, is on her way.
I feel a bit guilty, though, because a teeny tiny part of me is a bit relieved that it’s September.
Don’t get me wrong, my summer was awesome. Summer is my favourite time during maternity leave. I love putting my baby in the stroller and heading out for walks. I love sitting on patios with a coffee or gelato. I love the fact that we got to spend lots of time at the farm this summer because I wasn’t working.
But I’ve also discovered that sometimes you can have too much of a good thing.
We spent the past week at the farm with my family. My sister was there with her husband and six-month-old daughter. My parents were there. D and Littleman and Bo and I were there. That’s a lot of people and a lot of time together. If you had asked me a year ago how my family would handle a week together like that, I would have told you that my sister and I would probably be butting heads by the end of the week. I never would have thought that the people butting heads would be my mom and I.
But, wow, did we ever have a tough week. My mom and I spend a lot of time together, so maybe that was the problem. Maybe we had gone for too many walks, too much shopping, too many lunches and too many weekends at the farm this summer, that a whole week was just the breaking point for us. It makes me sad because I love my mom and I love spending time with her. I need her help and I appreciate that she’s willing to provide it. I value the time we spend together. So, that made it extra-hard when she would snap at me or barely speak to me throughout the week. At one point, I seriously considered asking D to take me home, but I was really enjoying the time with my sister and didn’t want to miss out on that.
By the end of the week, things had settled down a bit with my mom and we were able to make it through the rest of our vacation. But, by that point, Littleman was hitting the end of his rope with respect to being away from his normal routine. We did tons of fun stuff with him throughout the week (swimming, campfire, s’mores, putting up a flagpole, painting a fence) but by the end of the week I started to notice that he was acting out whenever we weren’t doing something fun. I knew it was time to get back to real life.
So, yes, I love summer. I love it a lot. But its final days kicked my ass. I’m ready to get back to a regular routine where my kids go to bed a decent time, we eat less junk food and I see my parents for shorter stretches. I’m ready.