A Mother of a Summer

Daylight savings time in a northern state makes for long days. When I get up in the ‘night’ to use the bathroom, the sun is peeking, and the birds are telling each other “good morning;” and, well, you know what they say about those early birds. Once my eyes open at 5-6 a.m., my brain won’t be convinced that it’s okay to dream on. In the bright evening, my usual bedtime has been pushed an hour later and, now, sometimes even two hours.

Another sign of the times is the sound of children playing outside. Our neighborhood is off the beaten track and next to a field. It does my heart good when kids are riding bikes and playing games outdoors. Hoops dot driveways and a small park, built as an Eagle Scout project, gives everyone a walking path, swings, and a slide.

School isn’t out for a couple more weeks. Then, the laughter, gameplay, shrieks, yells, and screams will occur from breakfast almost until the sun goes down. As we near the longest day of the year, the sky will stay a light blue until 10:00 p.m. Our neighbor to the north has a pool with kids from fourth grade into high school. Great way for them to stay busy in the lazy days of summer.

All this to say, the joy I experience listening to the young residents of the neighborhood increases each year. It’s magical.

I was home with my two boys, separated by just 19 months, all their lives. (pictured above) I worked from home until the youngest was a freshman in high school, and then worked during the hours they were in school. I knew it was best for my kids, but there were bumps, bruises and loudness all day, every day. They’d cheer together at success at video games or skateboard tricks, fight in sibling rivalry, yell or cry out in pain.

Yes, I dreaded the end of the school year, which meant working from home with their company. My job as a medical transcriptionist required that I hear accurately. Their schoolboy energy wasn’t compatible, so it was a balancing act. I had to take frequent breaks so they could drop their guard. Those were some looong, summer days. At the annual Labor Day cul-de-sac barbeque, I’d beam from ear to ear and toast the start of school the next day.

As a mom, I wondered if I’d be an empty nester who enjoyed noisy, busy kids or be impatient. My “boys” are now 25 and 26. Here am I. Wonderfully and amazingly, in a restaurant or store, at an office appointment or outside on my street, I love the sounds of children, from babies through preteens. Once a teen, the quiet sets in. What I feel when I hear the voices of young frustration, anger, boredom, play, joy, or fun is empathy. I can still remember being a child of summer, celebrating the freedom from schedule and routine. When the volume goes up in conflict or pain, I feel empathy for the mothers of summer.

School’s letting out. Cheers to the hazy, not-so-lazy days ahead. 🔆