Chicago Public School kids are officially done with their first month of summer vacation- and it was a looong time in the making. (Looking at you, everyone else who was frolicking in sprinklers by, like, May 12th.)
I’m usually pretty hard on myself in terms of idealizing summer and then smacking that right up against Actual, Humans With Children Summer. But once we got the kitchen up and running again and all three children firmly home, it seemed…easier, somehow, to let go/ignore/attempt to enjoy things more than we normally do. And easing up on myself (and the kids) allowed me to say yes to stuff that just came up. You know, like summer.
Things we successfully did in Month 1
(…which surprised the heck out of me)
Held a lemonade stand that yielded 38 dollars, you guys. (If those punks could’ve seen Hancock Road, circa 1989, they would’ve been a little more grateful. I once sold two cups of lemonade and a leaf-rubbing for a quarter. The leaf-rubbing was a signed original, so I think that jacked prices slightly.) It didn’t hurt that the owner of the corner pub came out and gave the kids each a buck and then the bartender followed suit with ten bucks to “support local business.” YOU GUYS.
Napped almost every single day. (At least one of us has.)
Camped with three other families we adore in a ridiculously picturesque part of Illinois and- so far- did not contract West Nile.
Spent the better part of a week on Washington Island and decided to sell lavender for a living (someday).
Played tourist at the lakefront and around the Gold Coast/Mag Mile with a double-decker trolley ride. (And maybe fell in love with Chicago all over again.)
Taught the kids how to catch lightning bugs, super-duper emphasizing the importance of air holes.
Went to the beach and didn’t yell about the buckets of sand we carted back home in our shoes/bags.
Woke up at 5:40am (way more often than anyone is comfy with) to work out to then have energy and feel good about my life in front of my kids.
Read books in the backyard with all three of my kids. Repeatedly. Like, a lot.
Finally- finally- set up P.J.’s projector in the backyard and watched episodes of Wishbone and then Episode 1 of Star Wars and- later, after the kids fell asleep- Modern Family and a respectable chunk of Mad Max: Fury Road with bourbon and limeade.
Went in the damn swimming pool with them, held a Barbie salon, made that blanket tent, and let them pour vinegar over dyed baking soda.
Worked a tiny bit during the day and a lot at night.
Things I failed at in Month 1
Did not cut back on coffee. Perhaps found ways to imbibe more caffeine.
Wasn’t able to respond to email in a super timely manner (but when I did, I think the PR folks enjoyed the sprinkling of adorable emojis Susannah chose).
The baths given in this household were, more often than not, hilariously quick rinses after swim class or efficient douses in the backyard splash pool.
“Bedtime” is a “word” which “might not” mean what it “usually does.”
And my biggest fail of all? I totally, wholeheartedly, ebulliently failed to give a damn.
(Failure tastes like an iced latte enjoyed in the sunshine, FYI.)
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