I don’t love summer. I’m (again) in the minority, I’m sure. Here in the Midwest, it’s hot and humid, both of which make me ornery. It’s mosquito-y. The sun rises early, which I am not naturally inclined to do, and sets late, which makes my kids think they don’t have to go to bed yet. My blow-dryer is sent to hibernate for months because I can’t stand sweating while drying my hair with it. So if you see some unkempt-looking sea witch with big ol’ RBF walking around, chasing after unruly twin boys, that’s probably me.
Kids need to be slathered in sunscreen all the time, every day, because now they’re outside so much more. And is sunscreen good for you or bad for you or some impossible combination? I can’t keep up. I burn very quickly ever since my pregnancy with my beloved twins stretched my skin thin like crepe paper, so sunscreen is a requirement for me.
There is constantly a lawnmower roaring nearby. I can’t ever get the house cool enough to sleep under a big pile of blankets like I want to do. My floors are dirtier thanks to people constantly in and out of the back door, the garage door, and the front door, no matter how many times I yell at them to take off their dang shoes. Grass clippings, dirt, sand, woodchips–everything wants to come inside and make me angry.
I don’t revel when my kids are out of school and we can “just have fun.” I still work five days a week. I would love to be able to take the entire summer off, but my boss doesn’t quite feel the same way.
Madison has no shortage of fun activities and festivals for families to enjoy in the warmest months outside of the traditional work week. Because we can find anything to complain about, we avoid most of them so we don’t have to spend the money or drive more than a handful of miles.
Instead of my kids being in school for several hours during the day with tax-paid professionals, they’re in some patched-together schedule of childcare for which we suddenly have a new monthly expense and/or the guilt of being at work while someone generously watches them for free. We have never explored the idea of a summer camp primarily because of the inconvenience of taking the kids somewhere to drop off and then pick up, and there is the cost to consider.
The thing that probably bugs me most is seeing friends’ posts on social media of all the fun things they get to do during the summer, like a vacation or impromptu trip to a nearby beach on a not-hectic weekday. I’m happy for them, of course, and “like” away at the adorbs photos. Okay, we *could* do these things, but we don’t usually. We have different priorities, and it shouldn’t bother me that I’m actively participating in our family decisions to have a different lifestyle.
But it does. What can I say? I want it all. I want to have my tropical summertime cake and eat it too! FOMO rears its ugly head highest during the summer. When inevitably, someone asks me what we’re doing this summer, it bums me out. Work and everything else that makes up our regular, year-round schedule. It’s not a special time of year. It’s just hotter, the central air is almost always on except for that full week last year that it was broken (*sob*), and I’m typically scratching at a mosquito bite or 12.
My fondest childhood memories are from summer, so I didn’t always detest it. But now, summer makes me crabby. I want to like it, and I try every year. There are perks, such as the Farmers’ Market, flowers in bloom, walking outside barefoot, and swimming outdoors. Berry-picking, beautiful sunsets, watermelon, corn on the cob, and Babcock Hall ice cream at the Union. But it’s still my least favorite season.
At least it won’t snow. Probably. You never know.
