Summer’s benediction is close. I suppose it’s officially over once my first born crosses the threshold of kindergarten in a few weeks. As much as I thought I was going to be effected by his maiden voyage into scholarhood, I am not. It seems very natural for him to go to school. I am not sad and I am not surprised.
In accordance with my membership in the motherhood club, this was supposed to be our greatest summer, like, ever. We were supposed to shake off responsibility, swim until we were water-logged, eat more popsicles than food and embark on vacations galore.
None of that happened.
Instead, we had a baby. One that is nearly perfect. You don’t hear me talk about her too often because I don’t like to brag. And if I was to talk about her, I would sound like I am bragging, because the girl is nearly perfect. She has been sleeping through the night in her crib for over a month. She eats well, smiles plenty and doesn’t really cry. As I type this, I am trying to think of a time when she wasn’t doing those things. And now I feel bad because it sounds like I am bragging. And I am not one of those bloggers that tries to elude her readers into thinking she lives in some parallel world where all is perfect, well and right. My true reality is a perfect baby. Sorry.
Since this baby came, summer has been a little lack luster. I have only washed the boy’s swim trunks a few times and we haven’t even grilled one single hamburger. I really dropped the beach ball on my son’s last summer before school.
But you know what we did do? We all sat on my king-sized bed and laughed at Violet’s smile. We also took turns holding her and kissing her. And there was plenty of help when it came to feeding, diapering and bathing her. I didn’t have my baby- I had OUR baby. And when I remember that, I don’t really care about what our summer lacked.