The longest day of the year

Summer is here in full force and the longest day of the year, the summer solstice, is upon us.  Bedtime around here seems to also be getting later and later, the children using the excuse "It's summer!" To stay up a little later every night. And though fully aware that I'm the parent and I make the rules, I give in a little because I feel like I can't use the "get to bed we have school tomorrow" argument all year and then invalidate their opposite argument when it's summer. 

All this to say...

All day my children do pretty well at obeying me and I don't feel super overwhelmed or anything at this task called parenting.  But why is it that moving my children from sitting in one room to lying down in another seems extremely overwhelming and daunting?  It is a parental mystery.

All that to say...

Sometimes when these long summer days drag on I just long for the cover of darkness. When I'm chasing my kids to bed at 8:45 and it's still so bright outside I'd probably wear my sunglasses, I just wish I had a super dark cave underneath my house where I could send everyone to hibernate for a minimum of 10 hours. 

Sorry kids. It's not that I want to get rid of you or anything, there is just this thing that exists at night after you go to sleep.  You aren't familiar with it, and we don't have it at our house, but many people all over the world experience it every day.  It's something called quiet.  

In all seriousness, we've had a great start to summer and have enjoyed just being.  There has been lots of swimming and relaxing. I have put on my boxing gloves and I'm fighting a battle around here called "Mom vs. Screens" in which I throw books, summer goals, puzzles, piano practice, games, popsicles, and toys at my children to keep them from being swallowed by the beast called technology.  

I think I am winning.  It is a new world for us parents of kids born in the 21st century. Yes, I have an encyclopedia in my pocket.  But I pay for it.  The price?  I don't get the feeling of the book in my hands or the smell of the pages.  Does anyone out there remember when you could only watch cartoons on Saturday mornings?  When you had to write a bibliography?  When phones were attached to a wall for pete's sake?

I remember.  And I also remember long summer days as a kid filled with swimming and playing in the yard and riding my bike and pretending.  Days without YouTube.  No!  The shock!  The horror!  Who could have guessed that I would grow up to be a mom who rations out iPad time as if it is the last drops of water in a canteen found in the middle of the desert.

Anyway, I think I've said enough.  Here's to long days, the covering of darkness, and technology.  May we find our balance this summer.

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