Holy crap, I can’t believe it’s the last week of school!!
What a shitty spring we’ve had. About damn time summer showed up.

Summer will be fun. I look forward to summer.
Why am I not feeling excited about summer? Being an adult blows.

I fricking love sun. Bring on the Vitamin D, Ma Nature! Blaze it UP.
It turns out that four hours at a soccer tournament with no shade and no sunscreen results in more of a broiled lobster look than a shimmery golden tan.

Summer’s the perfect time to shed the layers and get rid of excess stuff.
Mainly because I didn’t manage to follow through on those epic spring cleaning plans.

It’ll be great to spend more time with the kids.
As soon as I’ve put the kibosh on the incessant fighting and whining because there is absolutely NO room for that smack around here, boys.

I love how everyone shifts into summer mode. People just seem nicer and more laid back.
This must have something to do with the Vineyard. I have lost count of all the people who’ve told me they “summer” there. Suddenly, I’m seeing MV euro stickers everywhere I go. I doubt it would even feel much like getting away, because, “Look! There’s Lexi and Joe from down the road, honey!” Different, but related: Will you please cool it with the pastel shorts and penny loafers, dads? Not a good look.

I am so ready for heat – as in a whole day that doesn’t require socks. In fact, I refuse to wear anything more than a light shift and flip-flops.
If you sit directly under the ceiling fan on full blast, naked, you might not end up in a puddle of your own sweat. It’s the only place suitable for working, let alone thinking, on a 90+ degree day. Those brisk fall days are going to feel awesome.

I’m only going to work when absolutely necessary to maximize quality family time.
Holy Kellerman’s, Baby! That is one expensive summer camp! Time to put in some extra hours.

How about some swimming lessons, kids!?
We only need to drive each of you 35 minutes one-way at totally inconvenient times of day so you can ignore what the swim instructor says about improving your flutter kick because you “already know how to do it” and would much rather cannonball off the diving board even though it’s strictly prohibited.

It’ll be so good for the kids to have unstructured play time together.
(Twenty minutes later.) Unstructured playtime is total bunk, namely between brothers at peak sibling rivalry times, which are most of the times lately. Cue: chores list, supervised activity ideas, another pricey adventure camp, family outing over-planning, etc.

Hammocks are the epitome of relaxation. I’m going to string one up in the shade and make hammock napping a daily thing. I am going to relax SO MUCH this summer.
I’ve never managed to get comfortable enough in a hammock to actually sleep though. And I’m not really a napper. Plus, the bugs find you.

We’re going to get out there and hike some mountains, people! Camel’s Hump! Mount Abe! Mount Mansfield! Smuggler’s Notch! The kids are finally old enough.
But let’s start with the trails out back to build up their stamina and stay within striking range of the snack drawer.

Yard projects, here we come!
Unless it’s over 72 degrees Fahrenheit. Best to hold off until the cooler months to tackle that overgrown raised bed…or delay the job just long enough so the hubs gets to it first. (Check!) Also, our resident woodchuck likes the wood pile as it is – in a disheveled heap – because it means we give it a wide berth with the lawn mower and leave him alone.

I’m going to help my kid get a leg up in math this summer. Because that’s what conscientious Moms do.
The mere sight of those word problem worksheets depresses me, unfortunately. Maybe figuring the difference between stuck and unstuck trampoline flips (accounting for an observational margin of error) will prepare him for 4th Grade math?

I will finally take the proctored exam to get my boat operator’s license.
I’ve been driving without one since age 13 and can manhandle a boat in 20 knots no probs. If I took the exam, I’d ace it, and we’re real busy, so…maybe next year.

This is the summer of one-on-one time with my husband. The summer of bike rides! Weekend get-aways! Renewed nuptial electricity! The summer of LOVE!
First, though, we’ll have to divide and conquer to get the kids where they need to go.
Tabled for further discussion: For how many consecutive nights can we saddle the g-rents with the g-kids without burning through this year’s allotment of free/guilt-free childcare?

We’re going to spend entire days completely outside. Playing, eating, peeing, everything. We’ll toughen up our feet and take the opportunity to teach the kids how to shit in the woods, stay safe in swimming holes, harvest mushrooms. They will become tough little nature sprites, one with their surroundings, unafraid of the creepy crawlies.
Like ticks. Black flies. Hornets. Midges. Mosquitoes. Poison ivy. Poison parsnip. Bull thistle. Damn.

Festival season!! Woohoo!!!
Argh, we missed Jazz Fest. And the Franti tickets sold out weeks ago. Solid Sound? That takes some serious commitment with kids. But it’s doable, for a price, unlike the hippy-grungy Lollapaloozy free-range mudfest-moshpits of our youth. I miss our youth.

I’ve decided we’re going to play it easy breezy and just see what the summer brings.
Jesus H. Christ, we’re already booked through August. How does this happen?!?