I Need a Vacation from Summer Vacation

My kids couldn't be happier that summer is here - but for me, not so much. They're reveling in their newfound freedom; I'm lamenting the loss of mine.

I like a schedule, okay? I write from home, I need a couple quiet hours everyday. When the kids were younger, I could create a little space for myself with a good daycamp. But now that Nick is 15 and Emma is 12, they have other plans. Unfortunately, their ideal day creates a lot more work for me. Here's how I've been spending my summer.

1. In the Kitchen
With the looser schedule, there's always a meal in progress. I'll put away the orange juice from Nick's 11am breakfast and Emma will wander in looking for a tuna sandwich. By the time I've sliced up strawberries for an afternoon snack, it's time for dinner. Even when my kids make the meals, the kitchen is never clean, the floor is sticky, we're out of milk. Let me outta here!

2. In the Car
Kids need to be driven places, I know that. But in summer, the driving is erratic and impromptu. "Mom, can you drive me to the beach?" "Mom, can you pick us up from the mall?" I can't plan, I can't focus - I'm constantly on edge, car keys in hand. And now that Nick has his driving permit, the stress level of ordinary carpool trips is through the roof. Being in the passenger seat with a 15 year-old boy at the wheel is a singular experience - I've never felt so helpless.

3. On Guard
Summer ushers in a whole set of new worries. I let Emma ride her bike to the beach for the first time; she didn't call me or check her cell phone for my frantic texts for three hours. Nick had a friend sleep over and they rented Saw 5 ("extreme violence") for 23 minutes before I even noticed. There's an incessant checklist going on in my mind - are they sunscreened, helmeted, hydrated, saying no to drugs? It's exhausting.

Oh, how I long for September and the school bus, hot lunches, and six hour stretch where the rules are enforced by someone else! But for the present, I'll put another load of beach towels in the washer and mix up a batch of frozen lemonade. I may not get much work done, but my kids will have a great summer. And I take comfort from knowing I'm not alone in my plight. As one of my dear Facebook mom friends said about her summer:

"I'm freaking out. I can barely get through a long weekend, for cryin' out loud!"

When things get really bad, there's always Chardonnay.



For another take on summer, check out my post from last year: Backyard with Benefits

Moms ♥ Cubs Games

Last Thursday, three of my girlfriends and I snuck off to an afternoon Cubs game. We rearranged carpools and called in favors for after school play dates for our kids. Feeling as giddy as teenagers cutting class, we stuffed cash and lipstick into our back pockets, shoved baseball caps on our heads, and caught the “EL” into the city. Once on the train, packed with like-minded Cubs fans, we grinned at each other. We’d successfully made our escape.

The weather was gray and chilly, but it was warm and toasty within the friendly confines of Wrigley Field ‘cause the Cubs were up and the Padres never got on the board. Winning Cubs fans are happy Cubs fans and Lisa, Suzanne, Cheryl and I were no exception. Especially after we’d chugged down a couple of the big Bud Lights we bought from the beer vendor.

We weren’t up to speed on the nuances of the game but the guys sitting behind us – Desmond, Tom and Tommy - were happy to educate us. “ This may be the last time you’ll ever see Greg Maddux pitch at Wrigley Field,” Desmond informed us, as Tom passed around his nachos. They were nice. Everyone around us was nice - and almost entirely male. We four gals found ourselves getting a lot more attention than we were used to on an average weekday afternoon.

And it wasn’t because we were looking all that hot. We sported sweatshirts and fleece, sneakers and scarves. One of us (okay, it was me) wore long underwear. But who cared? It was two-thirty in the afternoon and the Cubbies were ahead and the good will and camaraderie flowed through the stands along with the Budweiser. When we stood to sing “Take Me out to the Ball Game” during the seventh inning stretch, I knew there was no better place in the world for a forty-something suburban mom to be.

The beer buzz wore off on the train ride home, when we had to switch seats to avoid being barfed on by a drunken high school girl who really was playing hooky. We shook our heads with maternal concern. As the train lurched north, reality began to seep in. There was dinner to make and homework to supervise and bedtimes to enforce.

But still, we’d had our afternoon in the (figurative) sun. And now, a week later, what Lisa, Suzanne, Cheryl and I want to know is this – anyone got Cubs tickets?