We're 7 weeks in, and I can see the light (school) at the end of the tunnel (summer). For working parents like us, summer is just an extension of the everyday, filled with heat, humidity, complaints, and pressure to fill the days with fun. Summer camp is a necessity, not a luxury for us, as we both juggle deadlines, meetings, clients, and a 6 month old on a daily basis and rarely do any of these tasks run on the 9-5 clock I so often hear fellow working parents lament.
But its not all bad of course. The baby is a slice of heaven on a silver platter I get to enjoy daily. No, he doesn't sleep through the night, in fact he wakes to eat at least 3 times between 9pm and 7am, so I haven't slept more than a 3 hour stretch at a time since December. (Take pity on me when you see my under-eye circles and wonder if I've ever heard of concealor- I have 3 coats on already). But he is pure joy so Ill take it.
And then of course the 6 year old just gave me a week in which I swore I'd send him to reform school as soon as he turned 8, and then wondered if they take children as young as 6. The kind of week where you sit at night, and your insides feel like old wallpaper peeling in on itself when the glue has long worn away. But immediately after the low point he gave me a high point as if he felt my inner most despair. He woke up on the right side of the bed, and flipped the switch from antagonistic villain to compliant cherub (though 'compliant' may be an overshot, you get the picture). And just like that hes back to his joyful, spirited self. Helping pick up leftover food from Panera for the soup kitchen, happily cleaning the basement with a smile. Perhaps these weeks are plucked from above and delivered to remind us what challenging is, in case were have grown complacent, jaded or even worse, discontented.
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