Summertime Hiatus

I've spent five summers as a stay-at-home mom, and by now should be well-versed on the job description. The sweetness and strength needed to negotiate with little people each and every day. The mental and physical energy required to muscle through all the hours of the week.

If anything, with a 6 year-old, a 4 year-old, and a 2 year-old, this should be my easiest summer yet. No spit-up on my shoulder, no midnight feedings, and no newborn carrier to lug around.

But somehow, this summer feels more intense and more draining than any other since I've become a mom. I have three willful little beings, growing more and more independent with each passing minute. Though they don't all need their diaper changed or their bottle warmed or their back patted as they drift off to sleep, they all still need my help. Lathering their little bodies with sunscreen, locating sunglasses, flip-flops and hats, threading arms through bathing suit straps, setting up sprinklers, fetching towels, serving picnics.

And then, when we all retreat inside in the afternoon to avoid the heat: laboring over an intricate Lego assembly, judging art contests, supervising Play-Doh projects, taking over the role of teacher with summer workbooks, and playing referee for sibling wars.

Then there are all the many things that need to happen every day ...straightening  rooms, cleaning up toys, sweeping the floors, making beds, making meals, washing dishes, feeding the washing machine, purging the dryer, and filling drawers. The minutia of motherhood, amplified because our three are home all day, every day of the summer.

These last months seem to have crystallized, for me, just how taxing -- and yet how special -- it is to spend this time with our kids. At the end of each day, after tucking them all in, reading books, singing songs, and turning out lights, I'm exhausted, wiped out, and ready to crawl into bed myself. Way too exhausted to blog about our day, or upload snapshots of our adventures -- both mundane and exciting.

I've logged far too few posts on the blog these past two months, but in the future, I know I'll return in my mind to a snapshot of one long, hot summer: tan, growing babies, smelling of chlorine and grass, shirts splattered with ketchup from lunch, hands tattooed by markers from a morning art project, and a sense of peace in my mothering. The deep, happy exhaustion of summer.