Bubbles and Balloons

 Water gun fights. TV tag. Lunch on the porch. Reminiscing. I want more than ever to hold my child close to me. To feel his heart beating. He is slowly creeping away from me. Far away. So I'll take any chance I can to be close. No matter the cost.

It starts early. Earlier than I expect it to. First it is the underhanded grumbling, usually about our weather. Will it ever warm up? Then a few weeks before school dumps our children into our laps the real complaining begins. What are you doing with your kids this summer? Camps? Daycare? Grandma's? Most mothers look to other mothers to lead the way. An open ended question that seems full of expectations, more routine and little down time. The topic of year round school usually enters...now. What are we going to do with the children?

Last summer, as a new stay at home mom, I saddled up to these conversations with a fury. How and when could I discharge my child into someone else's care so that I did not have to deal with the chaotic happenstance of summer? These summer conversations seemed natural. Of course, they have to do something. They cannot just sit at home.

This summer however, it did not come naturally. I watched from the outside as mothers began the first bits of noodling. I flinched at any talk of camps. I watched summer calendars get used up in a matter of minutes. I fought hard against any summer planning. As summer break drew closer and closer I felt myself getting excited and giddy. I wanted the school year to be done. I wanted so badly to go through a whole day without having to mention homework, without having to be uniform dressed and out the door by 8:45am, without having to hurry up bedtime, without having to wake a slumbering child and scold them when their breakfast couldn't be eaten fast enough, without having to pack a lunch, without having to talk with teachers about misbehavior. I wanted my child back. I eagerly looked forward to having him all to myself. No outside influences. No routine. No rules. No uniforms. No recess drama. No teachers. No six hours of sitting in a desk. No more boring hours spent zoning out in front of a white board. No more school.

I had changed. I don't want to let go of my child. I want to hang out with him. Snuggle with him. Play Wii with him. Go to the beach and hit DQ on the way home. Last summer these thoughts somehow paralyzed me. I couldn't deal. This summer I hesitate to give him up for a day.

There are such few moments left between him and me. I recognize this.

So we started our summer break with no plans and no routines. After two weeks of no routine, my child has finally emerged. He had been under water for so long. Weighed down by life's expectations. He had gotten out of whack. He had traveled too far to course correct - didn't know he needed to. The discipline mounted. The misbehavior rose to the occasion. The exhaustion had set in. Sickness and school work were relenting.  And then school let out for the summer.  My child is back in all his fullest. Laughter abounds. He hasn't picked up a pencil in eleven days! We explore, we swim, we eat whenever we are hungry, we are lazy, we read, we run, we bike, we sleep when we are tired, we hug and we snuggle. There is no time.

For me, this is the ultimate gift of summer. Reuniting with a struggling child. Bonding with a sensitive child. Laughing. Water gun fights. TV tag. Lunch on the porch. Reminiscing. I want more than ever to hold my child close to me. To feel his heart beating. He is slowly creeping away from me. Far away. So I'll take any chance I can to be close. No matter the cost.