A grateful nod to for this post idea, you can read her lovely version here.
This is the summer of posting late, and staying up late, and sometimes (usually) running late.
This is the summer of sand between my toes and the minivan seats, of sand in the baby’s hair, in the bathtub, on the floor. Free exfoliation and baby soft skin, showers every night and children with sun kissed cheeks. Swimsuits that don’t quite fit and fits about swimsuits.
This is the summer of being less afraid, of going in the waves, of getting our faces wet and doing things that scare us. Of saying yes before we’re ready and going before we’re set. Of closing our eyes and waiting for the wave to push us forward, of standing up and getting smacked back down but spluttering for air and going back in.
This is the summer of endless scootering ‘round circle driveways and chasing chickens into the coop, of hunting for eggs and blackberries, and the cockroach that disappeared in my bathroom (I won). Of evening walks for sanity, and humid mornings that still catch me off guard, of laughing at ourselves when we ask, “Do we need a jacket?” and relishing never being cold. Of sweaty heads and water bottles, and filling up the Berkey too often, of electrolytes, electric bug zappers and electric lightning storms that scare the dog into my closet at 3 AM.
This is the summer of a new church, new homeschool group, new everything, of hoping my motivation shows up before August and wondering if I’m really cut out for any of this, of total overwhelm and one step forward and not letting myself think too far ahead. Of theology reading, and question asking, chaotic morning Bible time and singing hymns punctuated by, “Stop touching her hair!” Of rhythms as smooth as a three legged race, and fighting for shreds of normal.
This is the summer of magic views over the bridge and marveling at boats, of long walks and tired kids, and stunning fireworks and glow sticks, of thinking we lost the dog again and finding him hiding later, of potato salad and cherries, and berry crisp on repeat, of fish and more fish, seaweed snacks and sparkling water all day long.
This is the summer of growing a baby, of growing bodies with growing appetites, growing gardens and growing a company. Of growing laundry piles, growing patience and watering my trust like the garden, but knowing I can’t make either grow.
This is the summer of inefficiency, of wandering the house in circles and not being at the top of my game, of unpacked boxes not spiraling me into shame, of stopping constant striving, of being tired and letting it be okay.
This is the summer of using every square foot, of small space storage and kitchen shelf pantries, of running out of counter space, but having a nine year old sous chef, of letting go and stepping back, of needing help and being surprised by how competent my children can be when I get out of the way.
This is the summer of birthdays, of double digits and how’d we get here, and “Am I really old enough to have a ten year old?”, of time speeding up, but packing it in, and not knowing where the days went. Of joint celebrations, and tag teaming, of being grateful someone else wants to plan a party and I can just make a lot of food.
This is the summer of hard conversations, and hard feelings, of not being able to make things better, and reminding myself it’s not about me, of listening and asking, of pep talking and disciplining, of endless sibling bickering in between fits of laughter, of “He’s a punk” and “You’re a weirdo” and “Everyone is taking a nap!”
This is the summer of cousin friends and family next door, but missing the family at home (where’s home?), of homesickness and wonder, tears and laughter, trying the new and missing the old.
This is the summer of life is still good, and home is where your people are, of joy and sorrow holding hands, already and not yet.
What about you? What is this “the summer of…”? You can answer in the comments or respond in a post of your own…
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Lately:
Cooking: This potato salad recipe — somehow I’ve been married for eleven years and didn’t know (or didn’t remember) that potato salad was my husband’s favorite? This is a solid recipe, but I would add only however much of the dressing you think you need so it’s not too gloppy. I also made this olive chicken for the first time in a while. It’s one of our favorites, but the original recipe always gets smoky, so I cook it in a 9x13 glass pan and reduce the oven temperature to 415. Perhaps you don’t get quite as much of the schmaltzy bits, but it’s much easier to clean up.
Listening: I enjoyed this conversation between Cindy Rollins and Jennifer Pepito so much. The poem they mention is this one. I may have to print it out or memorize it or something.
Does the road wind up-hill all the way?
Yes, to the very end.
Will the day’s journey take the whole long day?
From morn to night, my friend.
Laughing:
This conversation happened this afternoon:
*7 year old holds up small firework the kids found outside*
7 yo: Can we light this in the house?
Me: NO! Give that to me, you can ask Daddy about it later
7yo: Can we light it in the fireplace?
Me: No! Not in the house.
7 yo: But what about if we set it off in the refrigerator or something. It’s so small.
Me: Are you joking?
7yo: No…
Please pray for his survival to adulthood. And mine.
I hope you all had a wonderful holiday (if you’re in the USA) and get to enjoy a relaxing summer weekend!
Such a busy and full life. Your children are blessed to have such a good Mom.
Oh my goodness, I absolutely LOVED your version, Annelise!!!
“This is the summer of growing a baby, of growing bodies with growing appetites, growing gardens and growing a company. Of growing laundry piles, growing patience and watering my trust like the garden, but knowing I can’t make either grow.” Yes and amen.
Thanks for taking the time to write and share your version and thanks for the shout out!