School is out, the temperature regularly tops 90 degrees, and I feel sticky and sweaty if I am outside for more than five minutes. Summer is here.
Most people I know love summer. They love the beach, the laid-back pace of summer days, the long stretches of daylight, and relaxed evenings. If you have been here long enough, maybe you are not surprised that summer is not my favorite. For this type-A, routine-minded planner, the lack of structure that summer inevitably brings drives me crazy. I do not enjoy being hot. I dislike the pool. I can take or leave cookouts and grilling. So what else remains to commend summer?
I have made Summer Bucket Lists over the years in attempt to be more intentional with how I spend the season. Sometimes it helps to think of events and moments that will happen later to build anticipation. So I dutifully have filled out fancy font bucket list printables that I find on Pinterest with ideas ranging from making homemade ice cream to going to the pool to looking for lightning bugs. Most years I forget to lug out our giant ice cream maker appliance, and we do go to the pool and notice the lightning bugs, but I realize that those are activities I do not generate much enthusiasm for me (The kids do, of course).
This year I printed out yet another Summer Bucket List template and then tossed it to the side. I have decided to adopt a mindset rather than create a checklist. Summer has its good parts. I am excited to slow down our evenings. Spring was crazy with kids’ extracurriculars. Every single weeknight had programming, and even the weekends were chock full with work events and sports games. I am delighting in seeing many empty evenings in June and July. I look forward to more white space in my days to think about big-picture things, like new work initiatives and family routines that we might start in the fall. I want to preserve the margin that the next couple of months afford me. The steady hums, chirps, and croaks of wildlife in the warm, humid mornings brings me peace; I love how alive everyone seems.
As for the things that I do not enjoy? I am thinking through my pain points and how to address them. What are those hurdles?
The sticky sweatiness that comes after every evening dog walk, seemingly no matter how late we go? Well, I have resigned myself to taking two (or more, depending) showers on hot summer days.
The kids begging to go the pool every day? I’m encouraging the babysitter to take them when she wants on the weekdays and creating a really good book queue to take with me to read poolside when I’m the one chaperoning.
The mess of sunscreen and wet bathing suits and towels? I have created a sunscreen station in our garage (not new), assembled a ready-to-go pool bag (also not new), and resigned myself to throwing towels in the dryer after every single pool trip because they never get dry when we encourage the kids to lay them out to dry. The kids either (a) forget and leave the in a wet heap on the floor, (b) put them outside but do not flatten them, so they remain damp, or (c) forget to bring the towels inside before a rainstorm and the moderately wet towels become a soggy, soaked mess. Will it waste more energy for me to dry them every time? Yes. Well I be frustrated by the extra laundry summertime produces? Also yes. But I will be less irritated doing this chore on my own timeline rather than thinking it has been taken care of, when in fact, it has not been (at least in theory—I’ll report back at the end of the summer).
The ever-changing routine? I am looking at the calendar very far out, more so than usual. Instead of operating two weeks ahead, I am operating a month ahead so I can identify conflicts sooner and make arrangements.
The intention to make homemade ice cream that never is fulfilled? I have lowered the bar significantly. If we make some, great. If not, I have declared Fridays “Frozen (treat) Fridays.” Anything cold counts.
The practically unbearable Alabama heat that makes me never want to go outside? My husband Dan and I decided to level up our outdoor comfort game. We bought a huge cantilever umbrella to give us shade on our back patio. We are leaving the outdoor cushions on the furniture when we can and removing them before rainstorms to reduce the friction when it comes to debating whether or not to lounge outdoors.
I cannot change the parts of summer that annoy me, but I can accept rather than bemoan the discomfort and challenges presented. There is something freeing in resignation. Instead of fighting what I do not like, I can work with it. I had a conversation with a friend recently about our mutual dislike of being drenched in sweat, and she said something along the lines of “well, I guess you just have to embrace it is going to be a two shower kind of day.” That’s exactly it.
So, summer: I’m ready for you.