Summer Magic

Summer vacations were a magical time for me when I was growing up. I’ve never forgotten that feeling of immense freedom as I got off the school bus for the last time at the end the school year. The end of summer and the start of the next school year was nothing but a faint thought in my mind, if it even was there at all.

My summer-mind was always a whirlwind of all the things I had plans to do. In addition to the activities that just about every boy does during his summer vacation (which, other than getting scrapes and grass stains, is testing the limits of his mother’s patience), my parents always packed my sisters and I up in the car to go camping for a week or two.

Whenever I think about my childhood, the memories I have about camping are some of the best ones I have.We made tie-died t-shirts and competed in sand sculpture contests. We ate countless hot dogs and hamburgers. We cooked pizza’s over the campfire in my great-grandfather’s unique campfire oven. We got sunburns and bug bites but miraculously avoided poison ivy. We got rained on and nearly flooded out, and learned the hard way about the benefit of properly hung tarpaulins. We went fishing and often caught more trees than fish. We went swimming until our fingers wrinkled and learned how to dive off the dock. We went canoeing and paddle-boating, and watched our mother water-ski that one time. We played board games and seemingly endless rounds of Twenty Questions by the campfire at night. We made s’mores and got scolded for making torches out of flaming marshmallows. We found that loud, snoring neighbors makes for a late-night giggle-fest.

As my sisters and I grew older, we went camping less and less as our summer schedules filled up with extracurricular activities and summer jobs. I was lucky enough to find a woman who loves camping as much as I do, and we have spent many nights under the stars. We even went camping for our honeymoon. I hope you’ve had a good time making memories with your family, MIT Mommy.

I look forward to hearing all about them when you come back.

Badass Geek

A Mild Panic

I woke up this morning in a mild panic.

School ends next week. It is, shall we say, the beginning of the end.

George stopped napping the day Gladys’ preschool ended. That had been my last respite – George napped while Gladys was at school 1½ hours per week, three times a week. He refused to nap in her presence, and who could blame him? Her ability to entertain him goes unmatched by anything the toy companies could hope to invent.

Gladys is home. George no longer naps.

It was the beginning of the end.

And so, I woke up this morning in a mild panic.

Soon enough, Andrew will hop off of his bus for summer break. Except for two weeks of half-day camp for Andrew, my three children will be my uninterrupted chaperones for nearly three months. For five weeks of that time (plus several weekends) we will live out of a 26-foot camper.

I have heard “That which does not kill you makes you strong.”

Few mothers would argue the justification for my panic. They may wonder why it was merely mild.

I considered the two organizations that should demand my attention this summer. I should set some dates, complete some follow-up, call for volunteers, and send some e-mails.

I contemplated the new camper: the projects to complete, the packing to do, the pre-departure housecleaning and mail stoppage and camp forms and teacher gifts and bills to pay.

I was in a mild panic. I called a girlfriend.

“Read your blog. Read it from last summer.”

Read my own blog?

I did. I read this. Then I remembered why I write, why I stay at home, and why my oldest only goes to a few camps that are most important to him.

“Mo-om!!! Gladys has George under a laundry basket and is sitting on the laundry basket and won’t get off!”

And, as much as it tried, the panic didn’t quite come back.