You know it’s finally summer where you live when:
1. The sun is so hot you think you’re back in West Africa.
2. The baby gets a tan and the husband gets a sunburn.
3. Cigarette smoke, from the neighbors on both sides of the house, starts wafting in your windows at night.
4. You hear the sound of electric power tools — from lawn mowers to tree cutters — all day long.
5. Your 6-year-old, who does not have any scheduled activities this week, says “I’m bored, I’m bored, I’m bored,” 15 times in two minutes.
6. Your family from far flung places makes plans to visit.
7. Everybody but you is traveling to fabulous destinations, like Italy and Hungary and France.
8. You feel schizophrenic at work, like you should be taking the kids to the park or the pool, but it’s not the weekend and you have deadlines.
9. You’re having trouble transitioning into a new routine and a new schedule.
Now that it’s officially summer, I keep thinking it’s the weekend.
But it’s not.
Our three older kids all have completely different schedules and James and I haven’t quite figured out how to get the kids to where they need to go and occupy the ones who are home in a way that makes them happy and gives us enough time to work.
By the time we figure out this week (Athena has acting camp, Hesperus has gymnastics, Etani has … nada) it will be next week and there will be a new schedule.
Funny how during the school year I longed for the flexibility of the summer and now that it’s summer I feel both like it’s going by too quickly and like I can’t quite figure it out.