Summer.

What I want to be doing is writing a blog post. Well, I’d like to have one written. I’d like to be posting one, but the actual writing feels a little like a chore. Actually, I want to write. But I’m fucking beat.

I forgot how exhausting the first week of camp is — and it hasn’t even really begun yet. Today was an 8-hour training day, which came on the heels of a four day visit with my in-from-out-of-town mom, and an emotionally fraught yesterday of graduating and ending things and moving on and missing people.

What I should be doing is writing for my Writing Workshop. My submission was due today. And I have…a few lines of weak prose. I sign myself up for every available submission slot because I know I won’t write otherwise, but I’m stretched thin. It’s gotta be done.

Meal-planning, grocery-shopping, hair-coloring, memoir-writing, backpack-packing, lunch-making, dinner-making, child-entertaining, final-grade-calculating. This is what my Sunday looks like. The only upside is that I also get to parent a kid who just left the only school he ever knew, whose grandma just got on an airplane to go home, and who begins a whole exhausting summer at camp in two days. Oh, wait. Nevermind. There is no upside.

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One thought on “Summer.

  1. One of the best bits of advice I ever got on parenting was from Leila Abelow when I was nine months pregnant with Kendra. Haven’t spoken with her since 😦 She told me to go ahead and feel everything. I have had to reset my cynicism many times to follow this advice, and it’s always been the right thing to do 🙂

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