He wants to eat summer.
Like so much ice cream, running down his forearms and dripping off his fingers. He wants to lick up every last drop and then ask for more.
This second born of mine only has one speed. And it’s fast and furious and can leave a mother and father and two sets of cousins and aunts and uncles all tired and worn out in his wake.
We’re on the edge of the lake in Northern Michigan where my husband’s family have been spending their summers for decades. Literally. Same lake, same bike trails, same little minnows trying to avoid the nets of boys like they have for so many summers in a row.
We’ve got two days of car travel to erase and Micah is ready to get the process started at 7am the first morning.
And I think about my ideal vacation and how it involves a whole lot of quiet and a big pile of books and very little call for the roller coaster of parenting.
I’m sharing my story of how I try to balance the incessant demands of parenting with a break. a rest. a vacation. Mostly I find it nearly impossible. Click here to join me over at Simple Mom today, won’t you. I’d so appreciate your wisdom.