Before having kids, and before assuming really any adult responsibilities, summer was a time of limitless joy, limitless possibilities and limitless junk food. As a college student and young professional, my friends and I would dream up extravagant vacations, then blunder through some watered-down, low-cost version that usually included a dank hostel serving saltines for breakfast. But still: summer was a season of revival and recharging.
I look back on those days as I sit on my living room couch, weighed down by my “Summer 15.” In college, I may have eluded the extra pounds on my hips and thighs, but it seems they have found me in adulthood. And they brought some friends.
It’s not that summer with kids is without its fun; we visited our fair share of splash pads, stayed up late to see fireworks or movies and then braved the subsequent exhaustion-induced mood swings that make hormonal teenagers look like kittens.
It’s been fun, summer, but I’m ready for the fall. Like, really ready. I’m ready for preschool to start and to have a few hours in the day to begin recovering from all the quality time I’ve enjoyed over the past few months. If you’ve read Fox in Sox twelve times in a day or watched more than one episode of Super Why! you know what I’m talking about. There are only so many games of “Jump on Mom’s Stomach Until She Gags” one can play until you set up a countdown on your phone for the end of summer.
Oh, and I’m ready to wear pants again without my butt sweating after taking five steps. But we live in Texas, so I guess the near threat of butt sweat is always a given.
Carrie Taylor is a freelance writer and mother of two.