Every February, I daydream about tank tops and flip flops. And every August, I’m over it. Summer is fun for a while, but there are some things that always get old by the end. If you’re feeling a little bummed that summer’s almost over, here are some reasons to celebrate.
We have three kids, so applying sunscreen is my full-time job. Not to mention the ongoing dilemma about what kind to buy.
If you get the natural sunscreen, it takes the better part of an hour to rub it in before you finally give up—which is good, because it gives you time to ponder where to find a second job to pay for it.
And if you get the unnatural stuff, you spend that same hour wondering which is actually more likely to cause cancer in the long run: the apparently-evil-yet-also-life-giving sun OR the questionable chemical cocktail you just slathered into your precious baby’s skin.
Whew! Fun times.
I love the beach. Truly. I’d marry it, if people could wed property.
But the sand that always hitches a ride home with us, not so much. It’s plastered all over the car, the house, inside every bag we own, half of our snacks, and no matter how many times we bathe them, every one of our kids’ hair follicles.
I know not everybody has to deal with mosquitoes. That’s super nice for you. Those of us in the Midwest deal with them enough for all of us. It’s hard to enjoy a summer evening while being divebombed by voracious bloodsuckers.
Especially when they seem to derive greater power from citronella candles and bite right through your clothing.
I’m so not exaggerating.
Our kids go into full-fledged panic whenever they see a bee of any kind. Or what they think might be a bee, even if it’s just a housefly.
Not one of them has ever been stung, by the way.
(To be fair, wasps actually are a bit freaky, but I showed one who was boss in our bathroom earlier this summer and haven’t seen any since. BOOM. I rule you, Nature!)
Good Lord, children get clumsy in summer. Skinned knees on the sidewalk, splinters from the park, overscratched mosquito bites, the inevitable bicycle crash—I bet Band-aid companies make 90% of their profits in the summertime.
It sure seems like they take 90% of my profits.
5. Daylight at Bedtime
You’d think this would be getting better now that the days are getting shorter. But our kids still insist it’s not bedtime yet because “It’s still light out!” Plus, there are so many barbecues and fun activities to squeeze into the warm weather, which always seem to run late into the evening (despite the demon mosquitoes).
For those of us in the northern climes, the light at bedtime is a constant battle. And this soldier is plum worn out.
6. Lack of Structure
At the beginning of summer: “Yaaaaaaay! No set schedule! We can do what we want!”
At the end of summer: “Gaaaaahhh! I can’t take the hours of randomness anymore! Bring on the perfectly-color-coded-for-each-family-member school calendar!”
7. Podiatric Upkeep
At the beginning of summer, giving myself a pedicure and painting my toenails feels all fun and fresh and girly and sassy.
By the end of August, I’m ready to cover up my feet and not look at them for another nine months.
8. The Shaving
Omigawd, The Shaving. I’ve tried every form of hair removal known to man, but I always end up going back to shaving in the end.
And I’m not one of those women who can get by not shaving, even for a day. Call me Sasquatch. At least in fall and winter I can skip a day of shaving without scaring anyone but my husband.
Is it just me, or does laundry multiply in summer? It seems like there should be less laundry, because summer clothes are smaller. But between swimming, playing in the sand, getting dirty at the park, and rolling in the grass, I feel like the piles just keep getting bigger. I’m pretty sure half of it is towels.
I’ve never been a big fan of sweat. Mine or other people’s. It’s marginally acceptable while exercising, but sweating just by being is 100% unenjoyable. Blech. In my mind, it should never be over 75 degrees and 20% humidity. Unless we’re at the beach, when it’s okay to push it above 80.
But then there’s the sand.
And the sunscreen.
And the laundry.
And the shaving.
Yeah, I’m done. Don’t let the door hit you on the way out, summer.
(But do come visit us in February. We can drink hot chocolate and reminisce about that time you cranked the humidity up to 75% when our air conditioner broke. Good times, my friend. Good times.)