Moms of Summer Dreaming of Fall

I love my kids to death, but some day they may be the death of me.

This summer is the first time in more than two years that I’ve been home all day with both our sons—Jordan, 14, and Jackson, 8. Though I am extremely grateful to work part-time from home, instead of full-time at an office, these last few weeks have been challenging.

Summer. Is. Hard.

On one day in particular, I was this close to calling the men in little white coats. Or Calgon. Or both. Thankfully, the moment passed, and God gave me the strength to resist selling my little darlings to Barnum and Bailey.

You see, I’m an artistic, contemplative introvert. I also struggle with fatigue from an auto-immune disease, so I’m not the most energetic person on the planet. Jordan and Jackson, on the other hand, are outgoing, loud, and rambunctious. They like wrestling, pillow fights, loud noises, and rude jokes. Jordan loves to torment his little brother, and Jackson has a scream which could pierce concrete.

These monkeys I’m raising, God love ‘em, are ONLY quiet when they sit in front of a screen. But I don’t want their heads to fall off from too many movies or video games. (The week I had a book deadline was one notable exception.)

Sometimes, I wish for the past...when moms could send their children off on their bikes to wear themselves out. During my adolescence, Mom sent my younger brother and me outdoors on our family ranch when she needed quiet. We’d explore for hours. We made mud pies, took walks, played with our dogs, and hiked until our legs gave out. In town, she dropped us off at the library while she did errands, or she took us to the local theater for free kids' movies, where we knew half the audience and most of the concession-stand workers.

Now, we live in central Texas, and though our town isn’t huge, I don’t feel comfortable dropping my boys off by themselves. Anywhere. As for outside play, temperatures have hovered over 100 degrees for weeks. We’ve been to friends’ pools, splash pads, our city beach, a nearby water park, and more. (I should have bought stock in sunscreen). We’ve also invited friends over, gone to friends’ houses, and hung out at the library, mall, and roller skating rink—anywhere with air conditioning.

Don’t even get me started on how brilliant it was for me to agree to a book contract with a due date of August 1. At the time, I didn’t hear Danger, Will Robinson, though I should have. Instead, I thought, They like me, they really like me. Foresight has never been my strong suit—just ask my husband or kids.

As we enter the final weeks of the summer, I’m relieved. Not because I don’t enjoy being with my sons; I truly do. Both are intelligent, hilarious, and compassionate. As I’ve told them many times, I’d hang out with them even if I wasn’t their mom.

In fact, the Dyer family is—laugh with me now—homeschooling this year for the first time. But we’re also participating in a co-op, which means the boys will go to classes at our church all day on Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays.

A quiet house in which to pray, write, read and study—three days a week?

Sounds like heaven to me.