simple summers...
"How was your summer? Did you guys do anything fun? Go on a vacation?"
The sun was setting slowly and it was only about 100 degrees outside. Well, maybe it was down in the 90s. A small rain shower had worked its way across our part of the city and cooled down the scorching hot day. Evening was upon us, and even with the heat, it's hard to beat a West Texas summer night. We sat on the back porch and she ate a red popsicle. The raspberry flavored juice ran down her little arms as it quickly melted, leaving its sticky traces all over her hands and face.
"Let's go for a walk, Mommy. We can check on the apples." Her feet, stuck inside hot pink rain boots, dangled from the patio chair. She hopped down, grabbing the partially inflated balloon she had received earlier in the day as a parting gift at a birthday party, and led the way. We walked down the street towards the lone apple tree in the neighborhood. I knew there wouldn't be any apples left to pick, and if, by chance there were, they wouldn't be edible. We had visited this tree all summer and as the apples grew larger, their numbers decreased. Most of the apples were laying rotted on the ground. Honestly, I'm not even sure when apples are the most ripe for the picking. September? Maybe the summer heat got to these and that's why they didn't last long or turn any shade other than lime green. They weren't tasty apples, but to a toddler, they were magical.
I snapped a picture, a moment I wanted to freeze in time, because she looked so sweet. The essence of summer. Her little sundress, balloon, the sun peeking through the trees - it was a money shot. And I thought back to three months ago when summer began and I found myself sitting across from her in Taco Villa as we waited out a West Texas monsoon. It was Memorial Day weekend and I felt all sorts of sorry for myself. Sorry that my family was at the lake having fun while I was stuck home exhausted. Sorry that my summer would be exactly that. Long and tiring and at home. But the days flew by and we hardly accomplished anything I had on my bucket list. There were no swim lessons, only one trip to the pool, no visits to the near by zoos or attempts at a mini stay-cation. Summer started out cool and was ending hot. Extremely hot and much too quickly.
I wanted to spend our summer renovating the rest of our home. I wanted to do fun things with my little family and make sweet memories. What I failed to remember is that children don't pay attention to seasons, and babies and summer don't mix too well. Because when it was cool and rainy, there were too many mosquitoes. And when it was sunny and dry, it was devastatingly hot. And this momma is not going to drag her little children all over the place with great hopes of bliss because I'm a realist. The last thing I want to do is tote hot, grumpy children through crowds of people to try and achieve an idealistic summer dream. I don't want to pack up busy bodies and drive across the state while listening to them holler from the backseat of the car between a hundred rest stops. I don't want to spend a small fortune on a vacation only to end up stressed out and wishing I would have just stayed at home. I know how little people work. They have schedules and nap time and their own agendas, you know.
But we took her to the movie-ater (as she calls it) for the first time this summer, and not just once but a handful of times. She learned how to be a big girl and use the potty this summer. She swam in a big pool, got her own little pool, and had a fun night (that she talks about on a daily basis) at Texas Water Rampage (aka Texas Techs Water Page). We spent a week in Vacation Bible School. We took a day trip to a local lake. She was reunited with Raider Red and Fearless Champion at the church ice cream social. She went to a birthday party, learned how sparklers work, visited Blazing Bouncers at least a dozen times, and stayed up until the moon came up every single night. We took the days at our own pace, some days never changing out of pajamas. We had play dates as we pleased, we painted our nails and played in make up, and went through gallons of bubbles. We found a turtle in our backyard who entertained us for a few days before moving on to greener grass. We started each day with snuggles, and we ended each day with snuggles, too. And if that weren't enough, we found many other moments throughout the day to snuggles some more.
"For everything there is a season, a time for every activity under heaven... Yet God has made everything beautiful for its own time." - Ecclesiastes 3:1 & 11
This is a time. A season. I once heard that you only have 18 summers with your child before they leave home. I have now had 3 summers with Annabeth and 1 with Madelyn. The clock is ticking. The days are passing. My babies are growing and I'm in no hurry. No rush whatsoever. Because there will come a time. A time when their summers are spent in camps and with lessons and friends and sleepovers. A time when they will be working and studying and practicing their sports. A time when they'll sleep late in their own beds rather than crawling into mine for morning snuggles. There will be a time when my precious girls will not find as much joy in the simplicity of spotting a turtle in the backyard or be enthralled with watching a new movie at the movie-ater. There will be a time when they can pronounce everything correctly, too. A time when they'll be too cool to hang out with their parents at church socials and it will take a whole lot more than a plastic pool in the backyard to keep them entertained. There will come a time when they want to go on big vacations and stay the night at other friends' houses instead of trying to make a deal to sleep in mom's and dad's bed. There will be a time when my beautiful girls will spend their summers away from home. And although I think about those days with a twinge of sadness in my heart, I know that just like this season, all of those seasons will be beautiful in their own time.
We made our way back home as the sun set. It was almost "dark-time," as she calls it. That's how we tell time in the summer. Sunny time or dark time. The mixture of sweat and heat caused the little curls around her face to roll up even tighter. Her little hands were sticky, her cheeks rosy. She took a long bath, just like the does every single night before bed. The balloon lasted a couple of days before finally losing it's helium. Like the big girl she is, she walked it out to the trash can in the backyard. The last stop for all things as they await the dumpster. With no help and no fuss, she lifted the lid and tossed it in on her own. It was fun while it lasted. Just like summer. Fun while it lasted. But it's time for a new season. A change. Just like every year. The sun goes down earlier, the temperatures drop, the colors begin fading, and the days are filled with things to do. It may have been a simple summer at home, but it was certainly a beautiful one. Beautiful for its own time.
The sun was setting slowly and it was only about 100 degrees outside. Well, maybe it was down in the 90s. A small rain shower had worked its way across our part of the city and cooled down the scorching hot day. Evening was upon us, and even with the heat, it's hard to beat a West Texas summer night. We sat on the back porch and she ate a red popsicle. The raspberry flavored juice ran down her little arms as it quickly melted, leaving its sticky traces all over her hands and face.
"Let's go for a walk, Mommy. We can check on the apples." Her feet, stuck inside hot pink rain boots, dangled from the patio chair. She hopped down, grabbing the partially inflated balloon she had received earlier in the day as a parting gift at a birthday party, and led the way. We walked down the street towards the lone apple tree in the neighborhood. I knew there wouldn't be any apples left to pick, and if, by chance there were, they wouldn't be edible. We had visited this tree all summer and as the apples grew larger, their numbers decreased. Most of the apples were laying rotted on the ground. Honestly, I'm not even sure when apples are the most ripe for the picking. September? Maybe the summer heat got to these and that's why they didn't last long or turn any shade other than lime green. They weren't tasty apples, but to a toddler, they were magical.
I snapped a picture, a moment I wanted to freeze in time, because she looked so sweet. The essence of summer. Her little sundress, balloon, the sun peeking through the trees - it was a money shot. And I thought back to three months ago when summer began and I found myself sitting across from her in Taco Villa as we waited out a West Texas monsoon. It was Memorial Day weekend and I felt all sorts of sorry for myself. Sorry that my family was at the lake having fun while I was stuck home exhausted. Sorry that my summer would be exactly that. Long and tiring and at home. But the days flew by and we hardly accomplished anything I had on my bucket list. There were no swim lessons, only one trip to the pool, no visits to the near by zoos or attempts at a mini stay-cation. Summer started out cool and was ending hot. Extremely hot and much too quickly.
I wanted to spend our summer renovating the rest of our home. I wanted to do fun things with my little family and make sweet memories. What I failed to remember is that children don't pay attention to seasons, and babies and summer don't mix too well. Because when it was cool and rainy, there were too many mosquitoes. And when it was sunny and dry, it was devastatingly hot. And this momma is not going to drag her little children all over the place with great hopes of bliss because I'm a realist. The last thing I want to do is tote hot, grumpy children through crowds of people to try and achieve an idealistic summer dream. I don't want to pack up busy bodies and drive across the state while listening to them holler from the backseat of the car between a hundred rest stops. I don't want to spend a small fortune on a vacation only to end up stressed out and wishing I would have just stayed at home. I know how little people work. They have schedules and nap time and their own agendas, you know.
But we took her to the movie-ater (as she calls it) for the first time this summer, and not just once but a handful of times. She learned how to be a big girl and use the potty this summer. She swam in a big pool, got her own little pool, and had a fun night (that she talks about on a daily basis) at Texas Water Rampage (aka Texas Techs Water Page). We spent a week in Vacation Bible School. We took a day trip to a local lake. She was reunited with Raider Red and Fearless Champion at the church ice cream social. She went to a birthday party, learned how sparklers work, visited Blazing Bouncers at least a dozen times, and stayed up until the moon came up every single night. We took the days at our own pace, some days never changing out of pajamas. We had play dates as we pleased, we painted our nails and played in make up, and went through gallons of bubbles. We found a turtle in our backyard who entertained us for a few days before moving on to greener grass. We started each day with snuggles, and we ended each day with snuggles, too. And if that weren't enough, we found many other moments throughout the day to snuggles some more.
"For everything there is a season, a time for every activity under heaven... Yet God has made everything beautiful for its own time." - Ecclesiastes 3:1 & 11
This is a time. A season. I once heard that you only have 18 summers with your child before they leave home. I have now had 3 summers with Annabeth and 1 with Madelyn. The clock is ticking. The days are passing. My babies are growing and I'm in no hurry. No rush whatsoever. Because there will come a time. A time when their summers are spent in camps and with lessons and friends and sleepovers. A time when they will be working and studying and practicing their sports. A time when they'll sleep late in their own beds rather than crawling into mine for morning snuggles. There will be a time when my precious girls will not find as much joy in the simplicity of spotting a turtle in the backyard or be enthralled with watching a new movie at the movie-ater. There will be a time when they can pronounce everything correctly, too. A time when they'll be too cool to hang out with their parents at church socials and it will take a whole lot more than a plastic pool in the backyard to keep them entertained. There will come a time when they want to go on big vacations and stay the night at other friends' houses instead of trying to make a deal to sleep in mom's and dad's bed. There will be a time when my beautiful girls will spend their summers away from home. And although I think about those days with a twinge of sadness in my heart, I know that just like this season, all of those seasons will be beautiful in their own time.
We made our way back home as the sun set. It was almost "dark-time," as she calls it. That's how we tell time in the summer. Sunny time or dark time. The mixture of sweat and heat caused the little curls around her face to roll up even tighter. Her little hands were sticky, her cheeks rosy. She took a long bath, just like the does every single night before bed. The balloon lasted a couple of days before finally losing it's helium. Like the big girl she is, she walked it out to the trash can in the backyard. The last stop for all things as they await the dumpster. With no help and no fuss, she lifted the lid and tossed it in on her own. It was fun while it lasted. Just like summer. Fun while it lasted. But it's time for a new season. A change. Just like every year. The sun goes down earlier, the temperatures drop, the colors begin fading, and the days are filled with things to do. It may have been a simple summer at home, but it was certainly a beautiful one. Beautiful for its own time.
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