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By MAD21
Summer. In our corner of the world it means hot and humid, thunderstorms, green grass and beautiful flowers and plants. But for me, summer means a whole lot more.
It means time.
Growing up and even during my young adulthood I remember people around me always talking about loving summer, not the season per se, but the time of year. Honestly, I never really understood it. Obviously as a child I loved summer because it meant no school and sometimes a family vacation, but in all the years leading up to parenthood, summer was just like any other time... just hotter. Work schedules and extracurricular activities continued on throughout the year without much thought.
Until this past year…
I am entering a different phase of parenthood. We are past the years of potty training and strollers, bottles and baby food, and teaching our girls to walk and talk. My oldest was in half-day Kindergarten last year and my youngest in a three-year-old Pre-K class two mornings a week. We had soccer, gymnastics and horse-riding lessons, along with birthday parties, play dates and homework. The end of the school year was so busy for us I don’t even remember May.
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