I haven’t really liked summer since I was 15. When I turned 16 I got a job and never lounged through another summer ever again. So unless you have a beach house that you don’t have to continuously sweep the sand out of, it’s time to lower your expectations.
Lowering your expectations is not a bad thing. Okay, it can be. Like when you’re trying to find a mate and you’ve lowered your expectations to 1) wears clothes that fit and 2) seems unlikely to murder me or anyone I love. That’s too low. But as far as events like summer and national holidays, maybe we need to get those expectations down to a dull roar. I know I needed to. I used to want summer to be as magical as it was when I was a kid.
But it never was. And it took me awhile to figure out why. I was no longer a kid who had a mom working in the background. My mom made sure there was food in the fridge, toys for the pool and air conditioning for the house when it hit 100 degrees for weeks at a time.
I needed to see summer for what it could be for me as an adult who was also a parent rather than what it had been for me when I was a kid.
So now I think about summer as a chance to recharge between school years. I take whatever kids are home to the beach on Sunday mornings before the traffic gets heinous. We go to barbeques and matinees of silly kid movies and invade my cousin’s pool. There’s summer school and day camp because I work. No more long, lazy weekdays lying around doing nothing but reading and watching TV and eating fruit someone else cut up. Those days might never come again.
And that is okay.
I want to let summer be what it is rather than trying to manipulate it into something it can never be again. Maybe it’s better to say I am adjusting my expectations.