Another summer is drawing to a close. I graduated my second this spring. I seem to lose a year every time I blink. But still, I long for the more carefree days of summer. I love these days. Even now, when I have three teenagers, two who seem to be gone more than home. The third is nearing those days of being way too cool to hang with mom…anywhere. But for now, I love the days we have. I’m even looking forward to having only one to homeschool in a couple of weeks. There is one thing I dread, though.
I’ve been seeing them for years. The posts. They usually start just before summer break and continue till school begins again in the fall. If you’re on social media, you’ve seen them. I’ve probably made them.
They are all similar. They begin with pictures, often just of current vacations, but sometimes the same sweet face traveling through years in a series of photos. And they’re captioned something like this: “You only have 18 summers. Soak in every moment.” They’re all full of nostalgia. The good old days. Not much time left. What are we going to do?
In a way, I guess it’s true. I understand the premise behind these. Every summer’s end I look back, often not at the fun we’ve had, but rather at the time we’ve squandered.
Did we do enough? Did we have enough fun? Enough ice cream? Enough pool days? Enough sun? Enough summer? Enough??? Did we? Did I enjoy them? Did we spend too much time just being lazy? Did I teach them? Did I spend enough time with the most important thing—did I point them to God? After all, too soon those 18 summers will have slipped away. I’ll have nothing then. They’ll be grown. Gone. Mine no more.
Those posts do always make me catch my breath. But those summers don’t just suddenly just disappear. We don’t go from all in to all gone overnight. It’s a slow fade. Those first few, before we began our homeschool journey, I was one of those moms trying to soak up every day. But since we began homeschooling, I have often felt like the springs-summers-falls run together, one often indistinguishable from the next. There is more fun in the summer, that’s for sure. But still, I have often felt at the end of the summer that I want more. I was never a mom who counted the days till I could bus my kids back to school. Oh, I get it. There have been plenty of days that I’ve wanted that day to come. Plenty of school days that I’ve questioned my decision to homeschool and my sanity because of my decision. But last year was my “last summer” with our oldest. And this one coming up, it’s my “last” one with our middle. But it wasn’t. And it’s not. Sure, summers are going to look different. But really, they’ve been looking different every year, slowly but surely. That slow fade begins with endless days of kids underfoot. Applying and reapplying sunscreen. Keeping a hawk’s eye on them all the time—and at the pool or beach—we can’t even blink. Then it fades into a little freedom, and slowly but surely our days at the pool become more relaxed. More fun. But also, they’re not always under our feet. Most of the time, that’s good. But sometimes we miss it. Then there are no more scheduling play dates and pool days. They schedule their own, and mostly don’t even want you there. They just need a ride. And then they don’t.
But this doesn’t mean it’s the end. It just means it’s different. And different isn’t always bad. The car conversations are deeper. The shopping trips, though more expensive, are more relaxing. There are these real live people who carry on conversations with me about the world, politics, Jesus, love, hate, pain, relationships, and all the things. The lazy days are often spent in five different rooms in the house, but that’s ok. They are all under my roof. For a time at least. And I see the day coming when they aren’t. And that will be ok also. It will be more than ok. Because the truth is, we don’t get 18 summers. We get however many God gives us. We aren’t guaranteed the next one, whether it’s number 2 or 22.
Those posts usually make me tear up a little. But they shouldn’t. I should be thankful for today, not worrying about next summer or last summer. Enjoy the laughter and noise today. Or maybe it’s time to enjoy the silence, the phone call, the car ride, the play date. Enjoy whatever you’re given. To quote one of my faves, “The good old days weren’t always good, and tomorrow ain’t as bad as it seems.” Isn’t this the truth? We often glamorize the past or long for future days instead of enjoying what we have. Right now, I have these three amazing boys/men, and I’m going to do my best to soak up every day—summer, spring, whatever—that I’m given.
So get out there. Enjoy your last few days of summer. Then your fall. Enjoy every day. Eighteen isn’t the end of parenting. I’m finding that it’s just the beginning.
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