My Summer-time Mug Shot...
It's the same song and dance. As warm weather and longer days roll in, moms have a tendency to get their own form of senioritis. Breaking from the hamster wheel of routine nestles into our brain and it's all we can think about. We clump together on the playground and share summer plans. We're hungry for Instagram-worthy beach vacations. Sleeping-in is a hot topic, though we all know the majority of us will still rise with our brood. (Humor me with this assumption. It's what gets me by.) Our kids drink the Koolaid, too. Summer bucket lists are hung on the fridge in the precious elementary handwriting we all love. We make countdowns and cross off each day until we arrive at sweet summer-time freedom!
Now I'm not totally square on the exact science, but by my estimation, summer mania lasts approximately one month for the average mom. There are, obviously, factors that can change your personal time table. Your area's climate, the number of children you claim, and how many times you can hear the word "mom" while maintaining good mental health all contribute to how long you can hang each summer with your children. But here's the deal. The average mother hits her summer-time wall at some point before summer is actually over. It must be this way. It's nature's way of preparing us for the leave and cleave process. Otherwise, we might very well eat our young.
I came face-to-face with my summer-time wall today. I have actual photographic evidence that I am, in fact, "dunzo". (Are the youths still using that word?) What is Monday morning if not for running a long list of errands with two children who would much rather be playing outside with friends? Good times ahead! I'm sure you can just hear their sweet little groans and picture the aren't-they-a-little-young-to-have-mastered-those eye rolls. From store to store, I fielded questions about how long our little outing would take. I suffered through horrid farts in Aisle 5 and shushed them as they yelled "Penis!" through the open car windows. I was basically transporting inmates.
My last stop was Walgreens. It was time to take the old passport renewal photo. I've never been known to take exceptional document pictures. It's fine. It's not a gift I posses, but I don't lose any sleep at night. My very first passport picture was epic. I was packing a few extra pounds and thought I could "crunch" my chin-length hair with the diffuser. Poor life decisions. I strongly resembled the roughed-up Saddam Hussein being pulled from his hidey hole back in the day. And it is what it is. Bad picture? Sure. Did it serve its purpose? Heck yeah it did. And if I want to leave this country for a little R&R anytime soon, it's time to update that photo!
So, dear reader, consider the factors working against me. Farting children, an inability to take a normal photo (think Chandler when Monica tried to take a couples pic), and the basic fatigue of a summer not quite over. It's also important to note that I had done zero things physically to prepare for the picture. Unless rolling out of bed and squeezing my very un-bikini summer bod into some old workout clothes counts as effort. I knew whatever was captured on the camera wouldn't be flawless. But I digress. The photo. I took it and didn't think much of what awaited me. When the cashier handed it to me, I was floored. Were my eyes truly so...dead? I detected the faintest line of a mustache. My hair color was flat and my skin was washed out. My expression said, "This is how it ends for me". If I'd ever had a mugshot taken, this would be it. I can see the headline now...
Local Mother Found Hitchhiking to Mexico, Children Left Alone with Netflix and Easy Mac
My picture encompassed the struggles and exhaustion of mothers everywhere as summer begins to take its toll. There is a pivotal shift in the summer for moms and often we can nail down the point when it all goes south. Some mothers have the moment when they yell just a little too loudly and their neighbor stink-eyes them through the open window. Other moms find themselves handing their kid a can of black beans and a Fanta because they just can't make ANY. MORE. FOOD. We begin to crave a little routine. We save all the fall pins on Pinterest to get a fix of something new, something to come. A fresh season is just around the corner and, once again, we find ourselves in a mom-huddle. We greedily list off the things we will accomplish when life goes "back to normal". But I ask you, is there such a thing as "back to normal" in mothering? With the changing of the calendar comes growing, changing children. As our kids morph, so does our parenting. New stages for our young ones present themselves constantly and we are right there holding on for the ride. We are simultaneously taking things day by day and looking toward the future. It's the way of the mom. One season exhausts itself and we are ready to march into the new. If being a mother in the summer was easy, we wouldn't be as eager to launch our little birds into a fresh adventure. And one of the most beneficial things we can do for those entrusted to us is encourage change. The end of one season and the beginning of another fosters maturity. And I'm just going to put this out there. If our kids aren't maturing, we're going to be spending a lot more money on black beans and Fanta. Change is good, ladies.
I came face-to-face with my summer-time wall today. I have actual photographic evidence that I am, in fact, "dunzo". (Are the youths still using that word?) What is Monday morning if not for running a long list of errands with two children who would much rather be playing outside with friends? Good times ahead! I'm sure you can just hear their sweet little groans and picture the aren't-they-a-little-young-to-have-mastered-those eye rolls. From store to store, I fielded questions about how long our little outing would take. I suffered through horrid farts in Aisle 5 and shushed them as they yelled "Penis!" through the open car windows. I was basically transporting inmates.
My last stop was Walgreens. It was time to take the old passport renewal photo. I've never been known to take exceptional document pictures. It's fine. It's not a gift I posses, but I don't lose any sleep at night. My very first passport picture was epic. I was packing a few extra pounds and thought I could "crunch" my chin-length hair with the diffuser. Poor life decisions. I strongly resembled the roughed-up Saddam Hussein being pulled from his hidey hole back in the day. And it is what it is. Bad picture? Sure. Did it serve its purpose? Heck yeah it did. And if I want to leave this country for a little R&R anytime soon, it's time to update that photo!
So, dear reader, consider the factors working against me. Farting children, an inability to take a normal photo (think Chandler when Monica tried to take a couples pic), and the basic fatigue of a summer not quite over. It's also important to note that I had done zero things physically to prepare for the picture. Unless rolling out of bed and squeezing my very un-bikini summer bod into some old workout clothes counts as effort. I knew whatever was captured on the camera wouldn't be flawless. But I digress. The photo. I took it and didn't think much of what awaited me. When the cashier handed it to me, I was floored. Were my eyes truly so...dead? I detected the faintest line of a mustache. My hair color was flat and my skin was washed out. My expression said, "This is how it ends for me". If I'd ever had a mugshot taken, this would be it. I can see the headline now...
Local Mother Found Hitchhiking to Mexico, Children Left Alone with Netflix and Easy Mac
My picture encompassed the struggles and exhaustion of mothers everywhere as summer begins to take its toll. There is a pivotal shift in the summer for moms and often we can nail down the point when it all goes south. Some mothers have the moment when they yell just a little too loudly and their neighbor stink-eyes them through the open window. Other moms find themselves handing their kid a can of black beans and a Fanta because they just can't make ANY. MORE. FOOD. We begin to crave a little routine. We save all the fall pins on Pinterest to get a fix of something new, something to come. A fresh season is just around the corner and, once again, we find ourselves in a mom-huddle. We greedily list off the things we will accomplish when life goes "back to normal". But I ask you, is there such a thing as "back to normal" in mothering? With the changing of the calendar comes growing, changing children. As our kids morph, so does our parenting. New stages for our young ones present themselves constantly and we are right there holding on for the ride. We are simultaneously taking things day by day and looking toward the future. It's the way of the mom. One season exhausts itself and we are ready to march into the new. If being a mother in the summer was easy, we wouldn't be as eager to launch our little birds into a fresh adventure. And one of the most beneficial things we can do for those entrusted to us is encourage change. The end of one season and the beginning of another fosters maturity. And I'm just going to put this out there. If our kids aren't maturing, we're going to be spending a lot more money on black beans and Fanta. Change is good, ladies.
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