Summering is a Year-round Activity

“I’d like to dream my troubles all away
On a bed of California stars
Jump up from my starbed and make another day
Underneath my California stars”

— Woody Guthrie, California Stars

School is out today. At 11:30am. I have spent the last few weeks, nay, the last few years, planning for it. I’ve built the scaffolding for my ideal summer. We get new bathing suits, I get out my giant “Mom Camp” bag and fill it with sunscreen, pool toys, first aid kits, and snacks. We plan lessons and day camps, trips and play dates, and I am dedicated to filling our summer with the kind of laughter found in ads for cruise ships and teeth whitening. By early afternoon of the second day, it all crumbles under the weight of work and whining. But this summer, I’m home. I’m content as hell, and I’m not going to take it any more.

This year I have more than an hourly schedule and a chore chart, I have a vision for how I want my life to feel. At the start of the year, and coinciding with my employment sabbatical, I made a vision board. On it I put a cut out from a magazine that reads, “summering is a year-round activity.” In January, I knew I wanted that, but I didn’t know what that was. After 6 months of diligently unpacking myself as a person,  I do. I do-ish.

Here are my family goals for summer:

1. Build family engagement
2. Outsound electronics (outsound is actually a word)
3. Build confidence & control
4. Appreciate each other as people
5. Trust the plan

I’m not putting stars on an achievement chart to note how well we meet each of these goals or building a progress chart to illustrate how functional our family is from Manson to Cosby. I’m laying out four gradual steps and one drastic change to allow me to look back at this summer and say, we had a great time. Let’s do it again.

Do Stuff.
Alone. Together. And that no one else wants to.

One of my great challenges and one of my great strengths is my enthusiasm for pretty much anything. If it sounds like fun and it’s something to do and it’s kind of different, I’m probably into it. I like to do stuff. It’s hard to get people to do stuff--and my family is no exception. My response to this has always been planning exciting things for them to do--days at the water park, trips to the museum, themed days out deserving of Pinterest--with the mistaken belief that my enthusiasm and good planning will make the day great. We have fun but there is always an air of disappointment, of not quite, of meh.

I’m going to share the responsibility for enthusiasm with everyone this summer. Each member of the family will get a day or two to plan an outing that he or she wants and the rest of us are responsible for being excited about it. The planner gets a day, a budget, and free reign. It doesn’t matter if someone doesn’t want to do it or if we’ve done it before or if we think it’s a poor use of the budget. We will give someone else’s adventure all the enthusiasm we give our own. Fake it 'til we make it.

Talk.
In the language of….

I created an activity for a play writing class in which students had to draw a random scenario written on slips of paper from one envelope and an activity/setting from another envelope. They then had to craft a short, impromptu scene that stages the actors talking about the situation using the language of the activity. For example, dad has to talk to the kids about moving to a new town this summer, but he has to do it by talking about a board game.

Dad: Hey, kids! Wanna play Monopoly?

Kid1: Sure! But only if I can be the car.

Kid2: Fine, but I will only play if you agree to finish the game. You guys always give up before it is over.

Dad: Deal. Where is this game set? New York? That’s a cool city. Do you think we can drive there, Car?

When we do things together we have a whole set of experiences through which to connect with each other--stories to tell, days to relive, language to share. We don’t have to sit down to a family meeting and discuss this week’s schedules, successes, and opportunities for improvement if we just talk to each other along the way. And play...something. Then next time you get in trouble, kid, I don’t have to tell you that you did something wrong and send you to your room, I will send you to jail, directly to jail. Do not pass Go. Do not collect $200. Or when you say something unkind, other kid, I won’t remind you of your unkindness but let you know that you sunk my battleship.

It’s a way to talk about important things without announcing that we are talking about important things.

Say Yes.
Not sure, yeah, OK, or fine.

This is an easy one. It’s not about always agreeing but about fully agreeing. If you don’t know if you should use its or it’s, use it is. If you want to someone to hear that they are important to you, say yes.

Yes Quiz

1. Will you load the dishwasher, please?

   1. Fine.

   2. Yes.

   3. No.

2. Can you sit with me for a bit?

   1. Ok.

   2. Yes.

   3. No.

3. Do you love me?

   1. Sure.

   2. Yes.

   3. No.

Answer Key

Give yourself a shrug for each 1; jazz hands for each 2, and a pile of poo for each 3.

Have the Best. Day. Ever.
Everyday.

I am obsessed with the ideal day. If you build it, they will come, right? I read an article, that I cannot now find, which discussed how to lay out an ideal day--a template of rituals, routines, and habits that take the fuss out of when so you can focus on what.

Here is my weekday summer template:

5am-7am: Take care of self--journal, yoga, exercise--set the tone for the day.
7-8am: Get everyone in gear--dressed & on the way. Morning 5: groom, breakfast, dress, pick-up, pack-up. (Infographic coming soon.)
8-9am: Free time. No screens, but there are lots of options. If you can’t think of anything, there is always laundry, unloading the dishwasher, cleaning cat boxes....
9-11am: Creative adventure--make something. This is the time you are probably at your energetic peak. Use it wisely to engage. 
11-1pm: Tactical break--email, phone calls, lunch. Organize & fuel.
1-4pm: Take Care of Business. Sometimes business is the kids, sometimes it’s the client. Either way, TCB, baby.
4-5pm: Wrap it up & bring ‘em home. If the kids are at camp, get them. If they are with you, get home.
5-6pm: Free time. This is where I let the kids have screens & where I put a little more time to whatever needs to be done from the day. Even if it’s the need to browse Amazon.
6-8pm: Get everyone fed & winding down. Evening 5: unpack, bathe, tidy, repack, reflect.
8-9pm: Family time (games, movie, family reading)
9-10pm: Get kids in bed
10-11pm: Parent time
11pm: Lights out

Although this looks a march, it’s really a moving sidewalk. The day will move at one second per second regardless of what you do. You might as well keep pace. The template is in chunks broad enough to apply to a variety of family scenarios--work from home, stay home parent, kids at camp--and each chunk is long enough to allow sustained attention to one activity. I have two buckets (one AM and one PM) when I am giving full attention to something. And that’s the real secret to the Best. Day. Ever. Pay attention.

Put that thing away.
This is the drastic change.

To paraphrase a favorite Homer Simpson quote, “The smart phone. The cause of and solution to all life’s problems.” Smartphones are the new smoking, right? We use them when we’re bored, anxious, or waiting. When we go too long without looking at our phones, we start craving them. They are damaging our health and our relationships. If you are of a certain generation, your parents were probably smokers and, chances are, we kids encouraged them to stop. I remember pouring water on my dad’s cigarettes. I also remember stealing them. Luckily, my kids have not yet submerged my phone, though they do sometimes take it. Here are a few scenes from my life that have encouraged me to put my phone away.

1. When the kids invite me to play games, the first rule is “no phones allowed.”

2. My son quizzes me after talking if he thinks I was on my phone during the conversation. I failed last night’s quiz about chocolate.

3. I’m often the first person on the group text who responds--and keeps responding--to the group text.

I’m doing a digital detox this summer. Yesterday, I went to my son’s baseball game without my phone and didn’t die. I actually watched the game. I saw my son score a couple of runs with some great hitting and cost his team a number of easy outs due to his poor fielding. When my daughter got bored with the game and wanted to play on my phone, it was nice to tell her I didn’t bring it. And she believed me.

June, July, and August paint a triptych in yellow, red, and orange; pigments of life's vibrancy. A trifecta of time, sunshine, & company arranged to rearrange. Summer is almost like New Year's in that it provides a window for change. I often have the idea of jarring summer; of taking a crate of Ball jars outside and scooping up an especially bright day so that I can open it later when days are darker. Perhaps this piece is my attempt stock my larder so that when difficulties happen, I can reach for that Ball jar labeled June 2017 and pour it over me.