Remembering It's My Summer, Too

The first few evenings of summer break from school were euphoric -- I didn't have to race kids through a routine and to bed by any certain time.  I could read for hours, stay up late, and sleep until rested.  I actually thought to myself, clearly and precisely, "I can't believe it's summer."  A true and appreciated pleasure.

Then, self-inflicted responsibilities kicked in and we got into a routine of productivity, leaving ample time for the kids to play as they should.  BUT.  Four kids needing some help from two parents for their small snippets of work proved to demand a lot of me and of Chad.  To the point where burn-out was building for two teacher types who need a legit dose of recuperating and rejuvenating to be prepared to start up the intense 9-month academic year come August.  And bonding with new kids (and "old" kids) doesn't happen well when there's a lack of fun and smiling  .  .  .  For the sake of all, I am recapturing the sense of joy over summer that I'd lost for myself; letting go of some of the "getting done" to indulge in the luxury of time.  Sometimes I forget that it is I who made the list -- not another person will care, really, if some things go undone.

Starting with a bang, going really crazy, I stayed in bed until 10, and then savored a bit of self-care:  long, hot shower, floofa (household lexicon for loofah) with a gift-set of world's best-smelling shower gel, highlighted hair (toasted coconut; Walmart); pedicure (feet in hot tub of lavender Aveeno bubbling bath soak) followed by basic scrub, file, sand-cream exfoliate, thick greasy lotion, and citron-green polish.  Kids played nicely and agreeably with Bey blades and Barbies -- pleased that Mom didn't seem to notice they had "checklist items" yet to do.  They stayed calm, happy, and at some distance in hopes their peace wouldn't be interrupted with parental commands.  Yes, a slowdown in daily accomplishments is, indeed, needed by us all -- confirmed.

I finally made my way downstairs around noon for whole-grain English muffins and home-made vanilla latte (strong brew of Duncan Decaf via coffee press with skim and a dash of vanilla extract).  Checking email, opening blinds, assessing which items I WANT to work on today. 

[That's the thing -- I typically actually ENJOY much of what I work on (arranging get-togethers with friends, reading, creative lesson-making for school, showing things to my kids and listening to them, making things around the house prettier and/or more efficient  .  .  .  The PROBLEM is that I am a habitual "shoulder" -- I "should on" myself all  of  the  time.  A performance evaluation at school never surprises me, as I've already "should on" myself multiple areas of improvement, ten-fold that of any potential outside critic.  How my wardrobe needs updated, or what my children have yet to learn, or what I've not yet read or viewed  .  .  .  I already know -- way too much I always see that could be done, and I tell myself should be done.  The creator and artist in me dreams things up, and the pragmatic organizer and do-er in me assigns the tasks for follow-through.  Introvert who likes people.  Intuitive-sensory hybrid.  Thinker.  Judger with healthy dose of perceiver.  I'm a Meyers-Briggs blend of Mastermind, Crafter, Architect, Inspector  .  .  .  and a "Forgetter to give self a rest-er" (the last is not in the book).  And I say this as humble admission of one of my greatest weaknesses.  Thus, today, I slow myself, again.]

All kids have brushed teeth and eaten breakfast and rinsed cereal bowls (whole grain with skim) into the sink -- on their own.  (Typically would take for granted and see what needs to be taught further.)  Today, I see their self-care and respectful helping.

The boys play upstairs.  (Usually I would hear the too-loud, occasional thumping on the floor.)  Today, I realize they've played for four hours without any electronics.

The girls paint together, and Anna asks, "Mom, what music is it that you play on the TV?"  It's jazz.  She wants to paint to jazz music.  And Baylor joins her, as the girls peacefully share supplies and space.  They talk and complement one another's work.  Anna had begun her work before I came down to the main floor; painting happily with a nice, big, paint shirt to protect her clothing.  Yes.

Lunch, then swim lessons, and swing by to pick up Hunter's play pal on the way home.  Poolside I discovered another watching mom had been through the adoption journey -- her daughter adopted in infancy, from Guatemala.  We shared stories back and forth -- there were some things we both understood that comes with the trainings, the waiting, processes, worries  .  .  .  the complicated roller coaster.  She shared her moment -- one I'd anticipated, but our coarse has taken a different route -- when she landed on U.S. soil with her new infant daughter in her arms.  The immigration gentleman at the airport congratulated her on their arrival to the U.S. and her daughter's finalized adoption and IR3 VISA, "Congratulations, she's a U.S. citizen."  Chills.  She said she sobbed.  I would have.  I mourn the loss of having that moment.  I know we'll have our own moments, unexpected and unplanned and different.  For now, we wait 2 years and then will fill out applications.

Dinner delivered by Papa Johns (XL 1/2 mushroom, 1/2 cheese; small sausage) with "home food" (grapes and bananas) on the side. 

The tropical-looking plant I bought for the whiskey barrel on our concrete patio -- picked it up because it was supposed to grow large and it was cheap -- blossomed.  Large, gorgeous orange flowers!  And many, many more buds.  Hm.  Don't even know what this plant is called.  Anyone? Soon the six hibiscus plants will burst with color -- bought deliberately with thoughts of Haiti, and the small bamboo-looking foliage (reminiscent of tropical Hotel Karibe landscaping) grew back in robust fashion.  The herb pots are doing well, stevia, basil, lavender, mint, and dill; although the dill seeded before I gathered the leaves for dill weed.  The kids continue to be amazed that stevia is a sugar-free, chemical-free sweetener.  Really, really sweet!

Inside play, outside play, ice cream sundaes.  Time to take the friend home.  Then, showers and bedtime for my four.  And quiet time for me  .  .  .  after I take my tour of the house to do as promised -- pick up whatever they fail to put away during their final sweep of the house.  With their level of confidence, I figure it will be a quick tour and futile activity; unfortunately, I could not have been more wrong. 

Note:  These items were not in containers.  This is actually a collection of stuff that I found at random in toy rooms, bedrooms, and the like.  Sigh.  BUT -- the kids have the "natural consequence" of earning these things back by paying me in time and effort for the work I had to do to collect the mess  .  .  .  looks like I'll have quite a bit of help in the morning with wiping floors and dusting!  Tee hee hee  .  .  .  NOW, it's time for Special K with chocolate pieces  .  .  .

And then a retiring to my cozy bed for more reading of Edwidge Danticat, and visit within yet another of her books the reality faced by the average Haitian.  Unfathomable.  Reminding me, yet again, how soft I am -- spoiled, ridiculous.  I can't believe it's summer, and I have food, and clean water, and medical care, and a safe home, and air conditioning, and a soft bed with thick covers and soft pillows, and  .  .  .