I’m getting an early taste of summer today. My son is home from school with an upset tummy (he ate at least a pound of grapes last night), the two girls are stuck home with me who is stuck home with him, and they are all bored - climbing the walls, removing contents from drawers, changing television channels every 3.2 seconds, fidgeting like fishes out of water.

These days give me character.

By 10:17 a.m., I had already asked for them to cease speaking to me. By 11:00 a.m., we had already eaten lunch. This is the third blog I have started and I’m really optimitic this will be the one I finish.  I’ll post it, even if it sucks because I am desperate to finish something besides the bottle of ketchup today.

I remember what summer used to be like…before kids, before working from home. And at the risk of whining, I’ll just say that summer now means spending disposable income on the spray on sunscreen (it’s worth the additonal money you pay for the traditional rub on kind), TIDE with Bleach Alternative because beach towels and bathing suits need washing six days out of seven, and pizza delivery because pb & j’s become “the same old lthing” by the second week of summer (either that or you’re too tired from swimming, laundry and making five meals a day that you’re too exhausted to cook dinner).

Makes me wonder how I am going to survive this summer - my very existence has become dependent on writing something good every day, and I really, really love to sleep.

How did I survive last summer?  A little bit of seasonal pondering and I realize it’s better to buzz like a honeybee in a summer flower bed than it is to wait for the sun to shine on a bleak, uninspired day. The sun occasionally hides behind clouds the way my imagination and creativity hide behind my fears of stillness. When I can’t muster up an original thought or I hate what I’ve written, it’s a clue…re-direct. Sit down with your little girl and read a book to her. Go water the plants. Talk to your son about the circle change or two-seamed fastball or play peek-a-boo with the baby.  Sitting at my laptop letting life pass me by, I can’t write about what I don’t see or don’t experience.  My muse helps me write, but she also tells me to live.  Summer beckons living, even if it’s tiring.

Last summer I finished my first book.  This summer I hope to work on my second.  It’s a little different than a series of narratives, it’s not a collection of columns I’ve already written. It’s the big one, the one I’ve always wanted to write, and it’s taking energy from me - challenging me - making me confront my fear of not finishing strong - forcing me to work at good content rather than close with insufficient data. Dreams take sacrifices. Goals take maturity. What have I gotten myself into?

So I’m wrapping up this blog now with a little more self-awareness.  Sure, I’d love to sit down and watch ‘Go, Diego, Go’ with you, baby…just let Mommy log off. This is good material. This is all one long story, one long summer, unfolding.

I’m taking notes, though, as I watch everything you do…I can’t ever be truly still.