Confessions of a Summer Hater

I’m just going to put myself out there and say that I hate summer.

I know this makes me sound cantankerous and those who know me well would probably say, “Well of course it sounds cantankerous because YOU ARE!”

But it’s the driving hither and yon and the trying to squeeze in some work and missing my regular exercise classes and needing to get my roots done and just not having any peace and quiet that makes me long for the school year again. I know it’s selfish and believe me, I’m mentally flagellating myself regularly.

But it’s also the pressure. Oh, the pressure to give my kids a happy, exciting summer filled with trips to Kings Island, the pool, the ice hockey rink, camp and other assorted recreational activities. It’s exhausting.

Granted, I don’t miss the homework drama, the lunch packing and the early mornings of the school year. It’s great to have some time to exhale. But the loosey goosey schedule is actually more of a stressor for me.

Every morning these boys wake up, come down the stairs, track me down and ask, “What are we doing  today?” I feel like a cruise director on a ship full of cats. Well, only two cats. But it feels like 50. And of course, they never want to do the same things. One boy wants to spend all day at the ice hockey rink. The other wants to have friends over. One wants to play on the dry side of Kings Island, the other wants to play on the water park side. One wants to go to the pool, the other wants to stay home and watch reruns of “Monk.”

I hope I’m not the only mother who feels this way. But when I ask other moms how their summers are going, I get “It’s great. I just love having the kids around.” Or “We are having so much fun just making crafts and homemade popsicles.”  So I skulk off in shame before they can ask how my summer is going.

And I worry that I’ve set the expectations too high. After spending all day at the water park with friends, one of my boys asks, “What are we doing when we get home?” “Well, my little pumpkin, I’m going to dive into a tub of aloe vera because I’m so dang sunburned. And you and your brother are going to make me a nice glass of iced tea.  What do you mean, what are we doing? Is this not enough?!”

The other day the boys were trying to kill each other in the middle of the family room (they call it wresting; I call it trying to kill each other) and when I gazed wearily over at my husband, he says, “We are soooo going to miss this some day.” And I know he’s right. I know without a doubt that I will miss the noise and the chaos and the driving to and from places. I will just miss THEM—their presence, their laughter, their yelling, their little tiny airsoft pellets scattered throughout the yard and house.

But for now, I just want a little peace and quiet.