The lazy days of summer don’t exist in my world. Never have.
When I was young, my parents would head off to work and leave my brother, sister, and me to spend our summer vacation as we wished. For about 8 hours every weekday, we would gather with the neighborhood kids and put on rock concerts for each other or tumble in the grass or explore the giant culverts under Belt Line Road.
Once we organized a neighborhood circus. My brother was the magician of our three rings. Steve, the hunky freshman down the street, was the strong man. My sister, who was in middle school at the time, of course played something “pretty” (maybe a trapeze artist without the trapeze??), and my bestie and I were the best clowns this side of the Ringling Brothers.
Our clown shtick was right out of a 70s comedy special. My friend and I would chase each other around with buckets. My friend would chunk the contents of hers at me – a bucket of water. I would then chase her around with mine, feign a comical trip, and the contents of mine would projectile at our audience. They would shriek as they prepared for a jolt of cold water when in fact they had been doused with a bucket brimming with homemade confetti.
We had SO much fun that day… until we lost track of time.
You see, for my parents, the one non-negotiable in regard to our summer fun was that the house HAD to be cleaned before my mother pulled into our drive after a long day of work. Usually that was no problem because we had speed-cleaning down to an art form. We learned that we could goof off until about 3:12. Then we would drop everything, my sister would race through the kitchen “throwin’ and goin’”, my brother would grab random clutter around the house and throw it into any available crevice, and I would grab the yard rake and rake our 70s gold shag carpet so it might resemble a good vacuuming and wipe down a few things with MR. CLEAN for that just-cleaned aroma. If we had enough time, we would light a couple of candles and dim the lights. Housekeeping magic!
On circus day, not only were we running late trying to bippity boppity boo the house, our yard was blanketed in a bucket full of tiny confetti.
Momma and Daddy were not happy. At all. Back then, we got in trouble as much (or a bit more) than the average trio of siblings, but that was the only time I remember WHY we got in trouble.
Looking back, I think the only thing I’d change about that day would have been to make our audience watch from our driveway to save our grass from the confetti that remained imbedded in our lawn until Thanksgiving.
I. Loved. Summer. Those days of imagination and laughter and tromping barefoot through the grassy white clover, daring the bees to sting cradle my favorite memories.
But sadly, along with drive-in movie theaters and indoor shopping malls and calculators and cash, the magic of summer seems to be fading into our yesteryears. The story of summer used to include imagination and innovation and adventure. It seems that these days, the story of summer revolves around video games and Netflix.
My kids have been on summer break for three weeks, and they are pretty upset with me, especially my 13-year-old. Why? Because we want them to jump on the trampoline and fish and turn cartwheels in the yard, but all THEY want to do is play Fortnite and Zelda and Mortal Kombat and that newly discovered Big Foot game. I seem to be an awful mother because I want them to make real memories while “every” one of their friends is leveling up on the latest gaming system.
Electronics VS Living.
As we have battled this in our household, conviction regarding my own use of my precious summer days smacked me right in the face. No, I am not planning to run away and join a circus, mostly because my house IS a circus, but I have taken action. I took a deep breath, asked God for strength, and I deleted every single game from my phone.
People, that’s a big deal for this girl! Social media is generally hit-or-miss for me, but I’m a beast at Candy Crush and Project Makeover. If I had all the time back that I spent playing those games, I could have earned a Doctorate or written the great American novel or created a TON of amazing memories. Those games are NOT invited to my summer. I vow to level up only on my memory-making skills for the next couple of months!
So, in lieu of digital fighting, we have battled with silly string. We spent time at the lake with great people. We raced to the beach to watch baby sea turtles scuttling toward the sea. A good start to the story of our summer, I think.
And next week? Who knows?
But it’ll be fun!
Flying Pigs 