Tag Archives: summer

A blessing for parenting in the summer

God of ice cream cones and sun-kissed cheeks,
God of sticky fingers and pool-soaked bodies,
You made summertime, with its warm breezes
and ample sunshine.

You gave us wispy, white clouds for watching,
Rolling tides for splashing,
Sand for digging and building castles.

Be with me now as I parent
my children through this season,
As we, together, navigate
Longer days and unstructured time.

You know that “School’s out for the summer”
Contains multitudes — stress and sweetness,
dread and relief.
“What can we do?” and “Can I have another snack?”
The answer varies, depending on the hour.

To support our kids through this season means
Pool passes and park playdates,
Sports camps and Vacation Bible School,
Family travel and time unstructured.

Let us see the blank space on the calendar
Not as a challenge to be feared,
But as a gift of rest to be savored
Moments imprinted on our hearts.

Let us revel in the joy of our children
When they witness butterflies soaring
Or dandelions blooming,
When they take off on their bikes for the first time,
And savor that first ripe blueberry.

Let us celebrate their beauty
As they learn to swim and bike,
As they get lost in their favorite book,
As they slide, swing, and run at the park,
As they dig in the dirt and help plant tomatoes.

And when the days grow long and tedious,
And we cannot fathom grappling with
one more tantrum,
Let us draw on the support of our village —
Neighbors, family, church members, friends
Let us hear: “You’re doing great.”

Remind us you are near — in the cool waters
of the creek,
Juicy bites of watermelon,
The surprise rainbow,
The light of fireflies,
A campfire’s glow,
And the joy of watching our children grow.
Amen.

// written with my friend Kimberly Knowle-Zeller as summertime approaches. If you liked this new blessing, you may enjoy our devotional, The Beauty of Motherhood.

The Beauty of Motherhood book cover

I CAN’T WRITE

Because school’s out for the summer and my kids are here all.the.time.

Because there’s baseball practice tonight, basketball tomorrow and soccer camp next week.

Because we have swim lessons and playdates and birthday parties on the calendar. Because long luxurious playground visits. Because concerts, nature walks and dining al fresco. Because pool days, beach trips, splash pads and water tables.

Because wet towels and swimsuits are strewn across the floor and need to be hung to dry. Because the dishwasher needs to be loaded, the laundry needs to be changed and the dog taken out. Because my toddler just woke from his nap and needs cuddles.

Because, have you ever felt the grass underneath your bare feet while watching your kids swing in sync, and thought, “This is what I always dreamed of”? Because I want to revel in this tiny slice of peace before the moment passes and these kids start whining again…

Because one wants yogurt, the other watermelon, and they both want ice cream (but need dinner) and it’s hot and I don’t feel like cooking, so I unearth the mint chip from the fridge and the sugar cones from the cabinet and dole out three big cones for us to relish on the patio under the sun and isn’t summer a master class in shirking what’s sensible and savoring all that’s sweet?

Because, when my kids say, “Mom, watch this!” I want to bear witness to their joy — canonballs and somersaults, chasing cicadas and biking down the sidewalk, swishing down the slide and bouncing on a trampoline.

Because, have you ever seen the whole day stretch ahead of you like a giant buffet just waiting to be tasted?

Because the words can always be placed on hold while we live our summer story.

***

Post inspired by Callie Feyen, Dani Elgas and Kimberly Knowle-Zeller.

Snapshot of a summer afternoon

She clicks her laptop shut and announces, “Well, that’s enough for today.” She considers her son’s laundry basket, the dirty dishes, scattered hot wheels in the playroom. Working is her default mode; she finds it hard to relax. But the sun is shining through the blinds, and there’s a kiddie pool filled to the brim waiting in the backyard. Finally a dry, hot day after weeks of rain. She will not waste this afternoon checking off to-dos.

“Honey, we have a surprise for you,” she says, rousing her son from his nap. “We got you a little pool.”
“Mama! We’re going swimming?” he says, eyes widening.
“Yes, we are — in our backyard.”
He squeals with delight.

They slap on swimsuits, tank tops, sunscreen. He races into the yard, and spies the pool. She watches him dip his toes, one at a time. Then: splash! He plops in the pool and stomps his feet in the water. She sighs and leans back in her lawn chair. Thwack! He throws a soccer ball into the water, mischief in his eyes — a flash of the future. She wants to freeze time, or at least make it slow down.

Now the sprinkler’s running, and he’s chasing after their neighbor. They zip and zag through matted grass. They spin and twirl under an arch of droplets, little bodies shaking with laughter. It seems deliciously sinful to be sitting here under the sun, with no agenda whatsoever. When was the last time she felt this way? A giggle rises in her belly. She cannot remember.

Last night she dreamed she was floating in the ocean, arms spread wide, rocking among the waves. What a gift to be freed from deadlines and bedtimes and appointments to make, from time marching on. What a gift to float — untethered.

”It’s after 5,” her husband remarks, breaking her thoughts. “Guess we better start grilling, huh?” She nods reluctantly, then calls out to their son, “Buddy, five more minutes!”

Later, she crouches in a tiny toddler chair across from her son, who’s lapping at a popsicle — a bribe to come inside for dinner. Ice cream drips down his chin and he closes his eyes, smiling. She pops her popsicle in her mouth. (She needed a bribe too.) A burst of strawberry, tangy and cold, sweetens her tongue. Together they linger, savoring the taste of summer.

Summer mom

“I wanna be one of those summer moms who makes bucket lists and pool trips and spoils dinner with ice cream,” I lament to Jay while putting groceries away on Saturday.

I envy the summer moms. I see them strolling the neighborhood in their top knots and tank tops, babies in tow, seemingly schedule- and care-free.

Our weekends, in contrast, are a whirlwind of laundry, weeding and tidying up toddler messes—always prepping for the workweek ahead. “It’s hard when we both work full-time,” he says, rinsing dishes in the sink. I sigh.

My mom was a summer mom. She had summers off from teaching, and we went to our community pool often. My brother and I spent hours racing up and down the waterslides. We’d come home—soggy, spent and smelling of chlorine—then change into warm, dry clothes and collapse on the couch with cool, fruity popsicles. The memory is delicious.

It’s Sunday afternoon, and I’m packing for a business trip while our son is napping. I spy my swimsuit in the closet and pause. In one swift motion I grab it and announce, “We’re going to the pool!” “Which one?” my husband asks. “I’m not sure yet…”

45 minutes later we’re at the neighborhood pool. I breathe in the smell of sunscreen, wiggle my toes in the cool pool water and revel in this perfect, 80-degree day. Our son is giggling at the mini geysers in the kiddie pool, and I can’t stop smiling. I’m deliriously happy.

I am a summer mom; I just had to believe it.

 

P.S. That night we totally had ice cream for dinner.