Summer Hiatus
Summer is coming. In just over a week, Noah will finish another year of preschool, and we will begin that lazy stretch of days known as summer vacation. I use the word “vacation” loosely, since in reality, this will be a challenging season for me as I attempt to balance motherhood with a part-time job and no childcare—all while maintaining my sanity and hopefully keeping up with the laundry.
(So if Pete shows up at work in a T-shirt and mismatched socks, you’ll know how it’s going.)
It’s interesting to be entering this season now, after the events of the past month. My grandmother and Pete’s grandfather passed away within two weeks of each other, and the jolt that comes after losing a loved one, even after living a long, full life, brings home the reality that our time here is limited. I keep thinking to myself, over and over, Make the most of the time you have. I look into the faces of my little boys, who so desperately want my attention, and I realize that the day will come when they will no longer hang on my every word; a time when their idea of a perfect summer day won’t be a date with Mommy at the playground and ice cream cones at Brusters. These days, the technicolor days of childhood, are the most fleeting of all.
That’s why, for a time, I’m coming unplugged.
Which is not nearly so dire as it sounds.
I have a love-hate relationship with my computer. It is a tool that I use for many things: earning an income, paying bills, organizing recipes, blogging, e-mailing, iChatting, internet surfing. It helps me stay connected to loved ones, far and near. It introduces me to new people and ideas. It allows me to find information quickly and easily.
But the computer is also a thief, a stealer of time. It contains more information, both useful and trivial, than I can possibly digest in a thousand lifetimes. Like the proverbial greener grass on the other side, it feeds the mindset that I am always one click away from that even more interesting blog, that even better tidbit, that even tastier recipe. Unlike a book or magazine, which is limited in scope, the Internet just goes on and on and on, allowing the information glutton in me to gorge myself silly. I can start out googling “homemade baby food” and, through a series of enticing links, end up perusing Sarah Jessica Parker’s wardrobe from the past two decades. Click. Click. Click. Meanwhile, my babies are quite literally growing up before my eyes—that is, when my eyes are on them.
So I ask myself, at the end of my life, which memories will occupy my thoughts? Sarah’s sequined slip dress or the way Jude smiled when he first pulled himself to standing, carefully planting his fat little feet beneath him? A two-star movie review, or Noah’s hilarious interrogations? (The other morning as I was nursing Jude, when I switched sides, Noah asked, “Is the other side a different flavor?”) Why not invest more time in the story unfolding right in front of me?
This summer, I hope to be fiercely protective of the one thing no one else can give my family: my undivided attention. The days will be longer, my free time will be shorter, but the opportunities to be there for my husband and kids—to be physically and mentally present—are too precious a gift to squander. I am tired of giving the best part of myself to my job. I am weary of frittering away my time on things that don’t last. I am done with just “getting through the days,” assisted by PBS Kids and caffeine. To quote WALL-E, one of Noah’s favorite movies, “I don’t want to survive. I want to live!”
On a practical level, I am taking steps to limit my computer time considerably, such as taking a summer hiatus from blogging. This is a bit like giving up chocolate, so I am experiencing some of the effects of withdrawal. To compensate, I have rediscovered my love of journaling—scribbling across a page, unedited—and I am enjoying having that space to process my thoughts and experiences in raw form. A larger project is in the works, and I am hoping to make some headway in the coming months. Sometimes the good stuff doesn’t bubble and rise to the top unless it’s been stewing awhile.
Other big plans for the summer include: getting my hands sticky with glitter, glue, finger paint, flour, dirt, sidewalk chalk, sunscreen, and sand; going to bed early (sometimes) and staying up too late (sometimes) and reinstating The Glorious Sunday Afternoon Nap, which covers any deficit; honing my light saber skills with Noah; chasing a soon-to-be-toddling Jude; eating Beki’s cooking; embarking on some wild adventure with Pete as we celebrate ten years of marriage in July; reading books and writing letters (the kind that require paper and stamps!); baking cookies and inviting friends over, even when my house is messy.
(OK, so that last one’s a stretch.)
I look forward to reconnecting with you in September. Thanks for visiting this corner of cyberspace—it means a lot to me. Wishing you a wonderful summer!
Love,
Lauren
