I'd like to pretend that the slowdown in my summer blogging is because I've been too busy having FUN. But mostly we've just been chugging along. I have never (ever ever ever) been one of those teachers who gets all antsy in mid-July and has their classroom decorated and their first three units planned by this point in August. Yes, I like my job. But I prefer not-working. Even on a day like today, which consisted of thrilling events such as a trip to Target (for socks, no less), Goodwill, and the pharmacy; about seventy billion petty arguments between the kids; and a ridiculous amount of screen time for them, just so I could read a bit more of this really great mystery I got yesterday.
The Winemaker has mono. I had it when I was fourteen, and the main effects were: a) acquaintances assuming I'd gotten in by kissing someone, thereby looking at me with new respect, b) being able to sleep in without getting scolded, and c) not having to take freshman PE. Basically, a win all around.
This is not what the Winemaker is experiencing. He can't eat. His throat feels like razors. He's so congested I have to interpret what he says for other people. He has a constant low-grade fever. *Warning* next symptom is gross--He keeps barfing up giant balls of mucus. (Oak late at night: "Can you shut the door to your bedroom? I keep hearing Daddy frow up and it makes me sad.") He was so sick for a day or two that he didn't want me to leave the house, because he was afraid his throat would swell shut and he wouldn't even be able to call for help.
So instead of my usual seize-the-summer August frenzy of back-to-back camping trips and day trips to the beach, we have this excess of movies and books. It's still summery, because when else can I stay up until 4 in the morning finishing a book? Plus, you know, it's sunny outside. In fact, today was downright hot. I celebrated by cooking a casserole. Because of course, on a hot day there's nothing like first turning on 2 burners and then the oven. But it was comfort food. Father's Delight for our poor miserable father.
Did I mention it's his birthday? Yay. Last night he was laying on the couch and said, "I have some birthday requests. Let's not have a big group of people over. And how about a nice cold glass of water?"
So summer fizzles out, but I'm still resisting the end. I find September to be the saddest month of the year, and May to be the most stressful. The rest of the year, I like my job.
In retrospect, the nicest part of this summer may be the time I looked out the back window and saw my two and their neighborhood bestie sitting on a blanket having a picnic in the shade, none of them squabbling for a good seven-eight minutes. They looked so sweet. Now that I think of it, the best aspect of summer this year (not so much last year, during our crazy new-family stage) is watching the kids enjoy their summer. I expected that with Christmas, but hadn't considered that summer is also something magical in childhood. Maybe I didn't expect it because summer hasn't lost any of its shine for me as I aged. Even without the campouts and road trips I'd like to have fit in, there were still popsicles, and slip-n-slides, and two weeks of day camp, a few great day trips, and hours of just playing outside.