It seems strange to be mulling over summer memories as the leaves are tumbling down and pumpkin spice everything is in full effect. But on this crisp autumn day, that’s exactly what I have found myself doing. I attribute this reminiscing to several things: the fact that today I put away my flip flops after weeks of crunching leaves under open-toes due to my hard headed refusal to accept autumn and the necessity for full tootsie covering footwear. See you in April, I sigh, lacing up my trusty gym shoes to walk down memory lane of warm sunny days of yore. It does not bode well for me and my tendency toward seasonal depression that Halloween hasn’t hit yet and already I am in full winter hibernation mode. This dwelling on summer fun could also be attributed to the fact that it was, indeed, the Golden Summer of 2015.
I had the fortunate position of being the mom of a 7 year old, an 8 year old, and an 11 year old this past summer. Now, don’t get me wrong, I was also the mom of said children throughout the school year and am so currently, but while in May it seemed like everyone else was bemoaning the fact that their kids would soon be home and underfoot for the summer, I was giddy beyond belief. Without the rigors of schoolwork and scouts or gymnastics, our weeks were glorious empty canvases and we had a whole season of colors with which we could fill them. There were daily trips to the pool, a trip or two to the bowling alley, a visit to the museum, road trips a plenty to see family and friends or just to simply get away…and this was all done under the umbrella of three children who were out of the tantrumy toddler/preschool age and who have not yet reached the snippy/tantrumy age of puberty. So, yes, in short, a golden summer. One that is not likely to ever happen again under my roof as next year Jolie at 12 will be full on hormonal. Even if she is easy, she is already asking to spend more and more time with her friends, so she’s going to want to have more creative control over her canvas, and mom time is likely to be used more sparingly.
So back to today. When I’m bundled under a blanket and Adam has the fan on, it’s clearly not the dead of winter when we’re all praying for a lottery win and a quick vacation to Jamaica. It’s still warm enough to need air circulation…at least for the male in this household…so I should take heart in that fact that I shouldn’t be so quick to count down to April. Alas, I find myself taking the approach I take at the gym. Increments. I do two minute increments on the treadmill—hold my arms at my chest for two minutes, by my side for two minutes, on the heart rate monitor for two minutes and repeat. And I make it through whatever mileage I’ve set by counting down in two minute increments. And I think that might need to be my approach to making it through winter. My birthday just passed, so next is Rhett’s 9th birthday. Then Thanksgiving, then Christmas. New Year’s is always a highlight for me, so that’s something to look forward to, followed by Adam’s birthday at the beginning of February and then Valentine’s Day. The marathon stretch is from V-Day to Paisley and Jolie’s birthday at the end of March, but then guess what? It’s April. And I won’t have gotten a medal for finishing that race, but I will be able to pull out my flip flops again. And that’s reward enough.