How I'll disarm the days

It's Saturday. Soccer game, soccer game, lunch, karate. Wrap a present and grab clean socks, then off we all go to the roller rink for a 7 year old's birthday party.  Home at 5:04, oven on at 5:05, chicken nuggets and tator tots plopped on plates by 5:30. Only baths and brushing teeth and bedtime stories to go. Are we there yet?

See, this is why running 12 miles (all by myself! no one talking! no one whining!) sounds relaxing to me. It's all relative.

This is also why I'm standing my ground on one activity per season per kid. Soccer and karate overlapped a week only because of a rain make-up day. Otherwise, Saturday would have been a bit more deep breath calm and little less huff puff hurry.

It's amazing to me how easily the calendar can fill up and hold me hostage with its loaded days, the hurried hours packed in like bullets, cold time-ticking barrel pressed against my temple. That's no way to live. And it's no way to teach my kids to live. And even though today was crazy, I promise you and I promise them, this will be the exception. Not the rule.

With one no after another (to every-kind-of-camp-under-the-sun and you-name-it lessons and whatever else I'm told we need to do to keep-up-with-the-Jones'-kids), I'll disarm the days.  

Because summer? It will be about slowing down, sleeping in, picking strawberries, making jam, maybe the zoo and maybe the pool, definitely the beach and probably the playground.

We'll hunt for frogs, ride bikes, make s'mores, build forts, keep dirt forever lodged in fingernails.

We'll stay up too late reading books and get up too early to eat pancakes. We'll smell like chlorine and sunscreen for days at a time, and not once, never, not even a little bit, will we regret it.

Who's with me?

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