Summertime

Breathe it in. Summertime. Late nights at the ballpark. Burned hotdogs. Burned you. And, ice cold watermelon on a hot afternoon.

The summers I remember from my children were filled with adventure that we found ourselves. We went to church camp and vacation Bible school. We often made the summer trek from Lubbock to Fort Worth to spend time with cousins and Aunts and Uncles. When we got older, my brothers and sisters and I worked on the farm, helping my dad by "chopping cotton." It was hot, and it was hard work. But it meant we would have money for school clothes. We still had fun.

Summer has changed. It's changed, not just because we're in the middle of a record-breaking drought and on our 30+ day of triple digit temperatures. It's changed because we're grown-ups. No more summers off. Most adults in the country maintain a manic pace at work year round.

I took a vacation recently and enjoyed a bit of summer. I read two books. I got up earlier than anyone else and found a beautiful lake to fish. I enjoyed doing nothing. I caught fireflies with my grandkids. I went to the neighborhood pool and let a bucket of cold water drop on me over and over again. I learned new knock-knock jokes. I watched a lot of baseball. I ate ice cold watermelon.

For a short while, I loved summer. Now, I'm once again fighting traffic and trying not to feel like I'm suffocating in my work clothes as I make a mad dash from my car to the oasis of an air conditioned building.

My grandchildren are now back home. But I don't want to let go of the joy they find in a summer day. So, I'll have to fight the urge to scream when I see the temperatures climb higher and I worry about my electric bill.

I need to go to the community pool and stand in the middle of a fountain, take a wild ride down the slide again or just let the bucket dump the water.

I just need to act like I'm on vacation any time I get a chance. I need to embrace the little kid that still lives inside me.

I wonder what my neighbors would think if I used the slip and slide on the front lawn after work tomorrow?

Stay cool, ya'll.

10 school resolutions for the slacker mom

Thought I'd share this amusing blog column by Kelly Smith and Sharon Kennedy Wynne, St. Petersburg Times staff writers

About this time every year, we fall into some kind of glue-stick trance while fawning over and stroking all those organizing gizmos in the back-to-school aisles. And that same old feeling comes over us: This school year will be different. This year we'll be on top of the chaos. We'll make perfect school lunches. We'll have oh-wow ideas for every school project. Every other mom will think we're so cool.

Oh, cut the crap.

We are so over it. Truth is, between crazy work and crazy home, we usually end up overwhelmed, tired and barely holding it together. And feeling enormously guilty about it. So this year, we're not going to try to be one of those smiling ubermoms. And we're not going to feel guilty about it.

Here are 10 back-to-school resolutions for the slacker mom. Repeat after us:

• I will not do it for you, so do it yourself. Don't like PB&J in your Hannah Montana lunch bag? Then pack something else. And this extends to basic household stuff. Soggy towel and scuzzy undies left on the floor? Fine. Hungry and Mom's stuck at work? Mac and cheese, hubby dear.

• I will not sell wrapping paper or candy. Nope, nothing. We'll write a modest check instead. Heck, we'll have all our friends and family write checks, too. Just, please, no more cookie dough in the freezer.

• I will volunteer for ONE event. Maybe a field trip. No Fall Festival booth, and nothing that involves a cash register. Yeah, yeah, we hear all the ubermoms crying, "No fair, that's why we get stuck doing everything!" So true.

• I will not nag, bicker or bribe. Homework not done? See how that goes over at school. Breakfast untouched? Gee, hope you packed your lunch.

• I will not argue over clothes. Wear whatever you want, kid. Pick it out the night before, change your mind 20 times in the morning, whatever. But don't expect to get it ironed at the last minute. That's why God made Downy Wrinkle Releaser spray.

• I will not stick an erasable calendar on the fridge. Because after we fill it in once with important dates for September, we'll never look at it again. Until December. Ditto on the color-coded file folders.

• I will make no excuses when my kid's project looks like Tinkertoys. At least compared to SuperKid's to-scale replica of the White House with remote-controlled motorcade and swinging doors. At least my kid did it herself. Sure, we'll offer ideas and support (awesome toilet paper roll thingamajig, honey!), but we refuse to do it for her.

• I will not run a shuttle all over the county every afternoon. Pick ONE after-school sport or activity: piano lessons, soccer fields or karate class.

• I will not be a hairstylist. If you choose a 'do that requires gel or braiding, you better be willing to learn how to do it yourself. We'll only get yelled at when it's "not done right" anyway.

• I will not stress about my child's reading level or giftedness. It's the teacher's job to teach and my job to create a supportive atmosphere. So there will be no flash cards unless the teacher requests it.