I read something on Facebook — isn’t that the way of everything these days, I basically start every conversation in one of two ways: 1) I read something on Facebook… and 2) I was listening to this podcast… — that said that August is like the Sunday of summer. Indeed, a quick google search tells me that I did not, in fact, make this up.

It’s such a little truth bomb too, isn’t it.

And you know what that makes the end of August, right? The Sunday night of summer.

And we all know that Sunday night is the worst. There’s even an actual name for this Sunday phenomenon — actually several. It’s called the Sunday Fear, the Sunday Scaries, the Sunday Sads, or even the Sunday Weirds. It’s that moment when you realize that the weekend is behind you, and in front of you are nothing but carpools and school lunches and homework and tests and actual work, work as far as the eye can see. You have to put away the comfy loungewear and messy buns in exchange for the heels and the blow dryer (and maybe even the flat iron). Unstructured becomes structured. On Sunday night you suddenly remember  that there just were not enough hours to fit in all of the things on the omg-so-fun! to-do list. In the words of Jessie Spano, THERE’S NO TIME! THERE’S NEVER ANY TIME!

My August anxiety, truthfully, begins the moment that nights start becoming shorter, which actually is some time at the end of June. The 22nd, I think. What can I say, I’m an anxiety overachiever.

But this week? UGGGGGH. For me, the last week of summer is always jam-packed with school supply shopping and locker set-ups and uniform try-ons and back-to-school event shoots and last-minute family shoots and non-flip flop shoe shopping omg the month-long Jewish holidays are coming up planning. But it’s also filled with this feeling of . . . . . Summer is over and I didn’t do any of the things I wanted to do this summer. Also known as Summer Mom Guilt. Also known as The Sunday Night of Summer. 

Now I know that much of that is me being {surprise!} irrational because I spend too much time on social media and see what YOU have done with your summer — you traveled, you went to the beach, you went swimming, you climbed mountains, you entertained, you were entertained, you went to concerts, you spent long evenings on patios, you road tripped, you went to Canada’s Wonderland, and you reeeeealllly seemed to have eaten a lot of ice cream. And when I see what YOU have done this summer, it makes me feel like I haven’t done enough. Cue the Jessie Spano once again.

If I’m being honest, though, losing our lovely India this May has changed everything for us. I haven’t wanted to travel or go to the beach or go swimming or climb mountains or entertain or be entertained or go to concerts or spend long evenings on patios or road trip or go to Canada’s Wonderland.

{The ice cream, though, yes. Yes. And now that I’m not longer allergic to nuts I have discovered peanut butter and chocolate ice cream and it’s now my boyfriend for life.}

We are only starting to be able to dip our toes into feeling okay about doing normal things and even then, it feels off.

But, as I scroll though camera roll from this summer, we have done quite a bit.

We picked cherries from our backyard tree. We went bike riding. We went to the park to see the Canada Day fireworks. We went go-karting. We sent Isabella off to camp for six weeks. We went to spend time with my brother and sister-in-law and our nieces and my parents in Nashville. I took the girls to the pool and watched them swim their hearts out {while I got myself a lovely case of contact dermatitis from the pool chair}. We baked challah with my niece. We birthday partied. We watched movies under the stars in our backyard. I hitched a ride to camp and helped my husband make sushi and potstickers with campers. We saw Mamma Mia. I invited myself to one of G’s many summer Brazilian Churrascos. I visited seven overnight summer camps to take photos. We saw The MEG. I spent Shabbat at camp with Isabella. I swallowed half of my tooth after eating stale popcorn. I had over 30 photoshoots. I ran a week-long Camera Camp. We started having Shabbat company again. We went put-putting. We hosted a bbq for family and said goodbye to my in-laws who moved to Israel this week. I read some incredible books outside on my porch.

TAKE THAT, Summer Mom Guilt. It wasn’t exciting!!, but it was good. and it was enough. It was so enough.

Now, don’t get me wrong, there is a little bit of me that’s really looking forward to the kids going back to school (12th, 11th, 8th OH MY GOODNESS HOLD ME). Because now that being a lifeguard at Green Acres Day Camp, being a counselor at Camp Moshava B’air Toronto, and being a camper at Camp Moshava Ennismore are over for Thing 1, Thing 2, and Thing 3 — respectively — these three things could use some routine and I could use a little less, you know, being a Cruise Director.

But summer, I already miss your face.

Fall, I’m sorry, I don’t want your cute sweaters and boots and pretty leaves and most definitely I do not want your pumpkin spice anything.