My kids are still in school this week.
Until Thursday, at 11:45.
That’s 3.5 more days, for those of you doing the math at home.
I mean, the term “school” really mostly just refers to the actual building, since I keep getting word of parties and more parties and more parties that I need to provide $10 for. “It’s for pizza, of course.” (of course).
Report cards are already in. Tomorrow the kids find out who their teachers and classmates will be this September, so they will have all summer to celebrate and/or stew. School lunches now consist of whatever I can find around the house. Half of a granola bar? Sure! defrosted bagel with, um, ketchup? Excellent. Leftover funsize chocolates from Halloween? Why not! Mustard packet? That’s basically a vegetable, right?
So, yes, my kids are still in school this week.
But we are already on summer vacation.
Bedtimes have gone out the window. The kids are up late, like the sun. They are up early, like the sun.
They are at the park, on their bikes, on their ripsticks, on the trampoline. They are swimming hard, improving the skills they learned in the indoor pool in the middle of winter. They are turning a beautiful golden brown, despite being slathered head-to-toe multiple times a day in SPF 60 by their big, bad mother.
The kids are being introduced to movies from my past — Now and Then and The Babysitters Club, most recently. We are dining al fresco more often than not, using fresh herbs and vegetables from our garden. Our hot coffees have turned to cold coffee and we are drinking from straws, Nancy Botwin style, in the evenings on our porch.
I took Emily and her friend to see The Fault in Our Stars, just because.
Things have slowed down. Things seems less stressful.
And I just can’t stop smiling.
And not just because I don’t have to do this.
And not just because I have 3.5 more blissful days before summer vacation actually starts.
Well, maybe a little.