We MAY-DE It!

Well, sort of…the fact that I’m writing this post in mid-June is a testament to the trauma of May, and what I have decided is May’s dirtiest trick of all—it’s followed by June.

You see we had a system. We knew what we were doing. We knew who had practice on what night, what days we had to feed people earlier, when laundry needed to cycle so that people didn’t run out of uniforms and now it’s over. Everything is up in the air, there’s no system, there’s no schedule. It’s chaos.

OK, it’s not that bad. I actually love summer but what I forgot, or perhaps what I’ve chosen to block out, is that I do not love the transition into summer. The week or two that it takes you and your family to switch gears from the rhythm of the school year. That short period where you have no idea what’s happening tomorrow, you’re not sure how many meals anyone has eaten—but they seem to be eating something ALL day and small people are home, like all the time.

They do not go to their institute of learning for a blissful six hours a day. They are in your home staring at you. They are asking about food, activities, games, seeing their friends. They expect you to have all of the answers to their questions. They have a lot of questions and needs and wants and it’s overwhelming and exhausting. They are loud. They are messy. Your home has never been messier—it looks like the aftermath of a frat party at all times. Which is strange because you continuously walk around picking things up and putting them away. You do this for at least four hours a day and yet there are still cups everywhere, random articles of clothing are strewn all over the place and remnant pieces of whatever they were playing with last are all over every table in your house.

We knew this was coming. We actually wished for it to be here because anything is really better than May. So why does it take us by surprise? Why do we feel like we have never done this before? I say it’s the transition. We live in the school routine for many more months than we live in summer. It’s only logical that it takes us a hot minute to get re-acquainted. To remember that we do not feed people on demand, we do not allow you to play video games until your eyes bleed, we make everybody stop at least every few hours and go through the house to pick up all of their junk—I mean, belongings. We DO have a summer routine we just forgot about it.

A friend of mine told me she warned her husband at the end of the school year that the next two weeks would be rough for everyone. She’s a genius. She remembered the transition–the part where you’re so happy that it’s summer but you also don’t know how you will ever get anything accomplished again. She called it by its name, looked it right in the face and just plowed through it. She removed any expectations of herself or her kids because she knew it would take everyone a minute to find their groove.

So, I’m taking her lead on this segue into summer. I am not going to worry if my kids have eaten a box of granola bars as lunch and have taken to wearing pajamas at all hours of the day. I will not beat myself up if I’ve been trying to get the same hour of work done for the past two days. I will not have anyone over to my house that would care what it might look like (I actually try to live by that rule all year). I will allow myself and my people this transition. I will be thankful that I’m off the schedule and create a new one that suits me. I’ll be grateful that we get to experience a different reality for a few months that involves liberal bedtimes, optional bathing and no school projects. Maybe this segue is put here to remind me of the importance of being flexible, to roll with the punches and to be thankful that we all survived May once again.