You know how nearly every parent says it: “How big is baby?” And the enthusiastic answer is “So big!” You usually raise your baby’s arms in the air when you say it, and eventually they learn to do the same without your prompt. How big is baby? So big!
How big is this summer? So big!
You probably know by now that I love summer. With a fiery passion. With the intensity of a dozen heat waves.
If I measured out my life moments, both good and bad in terms of seasons, some of the biggest moments would fall into the summer category – the sudden death of my father, meeting my husband at JFK Airport, and the birth of my firstborn, Scarlet:
Not just in terms of good or bad, there is big or small. Hundreds of summer nights, listening to crickets and watching the stars. The smell of BBQ and freshly cut grass. Amusement parks and fairs and the synthetic smell of sunscreen. It’s still a smell I love. At times I even love the faint smell of cigarettes – not because I don’t recognize the horror and cancer and disgust of them. I do, considering I have never smoked a cigarette in my life. It’s just that the smell sometimes reminds me of a high school boyfriend.
The smell as far away as he became to me. And still I like the smell in deep moderation.
I have some all-time best summers of my life, and these are after all of the blurs of childhood and summer vacations and days spent out by the pool, and summer parties and staying up late and shrieking when my dad casually asked us, “So..anyone want to go to Cliff’s?” (ice cream) I’m talking after that. I’m talking early adulthood days and whatever now is – early parenthood days?
The summers in which I made my own life choices, no matter how foolish and deviant some of them were!
There was the summer I delivered pizza with my sister at a local place. No uniforms, tank tops and shorts, tips. Crushes on short-order cooks. Yes, it’s true and I don’t know whatever happened to you but if you’re reading this, well, it was probably obvious.
Then there was the following summer in which I fell for a guy friend and the whole summer felt delicious and sneaky, even though our only real crime was never sleeping.
Perhaps the best or tied for it was falling in love with Cassidy in the spring, and meeting him in the summer of 2004.
Then we reunited in the summer of 2006, after two years of near radio silence. This is Yosemite, actually in the fall:
And now we have the summer of 2013. I always knew it would be big, and I’m not entirely sure why. I think it’s partly because it was our first summer after Scarlet started any kind of formal schooling, so it was our first summer measured in time.
It was knowing it would end, but knowing how big it would be before that happened. And know what? It didn’t feel fast or short.
It started the week of Scarlet’s last day of school, when this guy here turned one:
I went to visit the hospital of his birth and the hospital of his NICU and I learned some things about myself here.
Then I had my first day away from both kids all day, while we went to a good friend’s wedding.
Only a week or two later, was another beautiful wedding. This time with the kids.
Later that weekend I took Scarlet to see her first fireworks, and she melted in my arms for the whole show as we oohed and ahhhed. I carried her inside when we got home, for she had been long asleep since we had left the show.
In early July, Cassidy painted our shed to look like a Tardis:
Just in time for Scarlet’s “Alice in Wonderland” fourth birthday party.
Two days after her fourth birthday, I had my SITS Day, where I “met” even more of my many favorite bloggers/people.
And then a whirlwind trip to Cape Cod!
In the middle of July, my mom and I took the kids to Dartmouth College to relive some memories of my grandfather.
Scarlet had her first summer camp experience, which started out poorly, and ended reluctantly but fabulously.
Not long after that, we took in a Tanglewood show:
And that brings us to now, late August. I have a few last hurrahs up my sleeve, and I’ll surely write about them here.
That’s what’s the best part of all of this. That it ain’t over ’til it’s over. Stay tuned, my friends.