We had a great summer. Carefree days with endless possibilities ended up filled with trips to the beach and Hersheypark, dozens of books, swimming, a seventeen-mile bike ride, and lots of great food and friends. But every good thing has to come to an end. For every wonderful part about summer, plenty of frustrations kept me on edge.
1. I have to say I am ready to pack away my swimsuit and let my gut do its thing. I’ve been tired of sucking it in all summer. Now that Labor Day has passed and pools are closed, it’s time to hang loose.
2. I’m ready to not have to be so consistent with my shaving, so things might get a little hairy. Don’t worry. I don’t let it get out of control to the point that my husband thinks he’s married to a yeti.
3. Bugs will die soon. They will not die soon enough as far as I’m concerned. Mosquito bites in out-of-reach or forbidden places can be unbearable. One can only resist the urge to scratch an unfortunate boob bite for so long while standing in line at the grocery store. As I tell my kids, once you give in, you can’t stop the scratching. Really, it scares away the customers.
4. What’s the point of showering every day to then walk out the door and immediately sweat, stink up your entire self, and become stickier than a bug trap strip? During summer, you’re clean for a daily total of about five minutes.
5. My son lost his goggles this summer. He borrowed my daughter’s because she never wears them. Guess who decided she suddenly wants to wear goggles? Guess who has a second pair of perfectly fine goggles, which are pink but supposedly too tight? The kids have fussed over that one pair of goggles all summer. I am over goggles.
6. Humidity gives me migraines. It’s humid a lot in the south.
7. Humidity makes my hair poof up to about four times its normal size, a giant mass of frizz. I’ll be glad to regain some control over this eighth Wonder of the World.
8. I will not miss having to load up snacks, a pool bag, and the car. I won’t miss chasing the kids as I slather sunscreen on them, telling them I’m not finished yet, and still trying to rub goo all over their faces as they inch away from me and turn their heads in fifty directions. I won’t miss finally jumping into the pool only to see a black cloud close in and hear, “Thunder! Everyone out of the pool!”
Now I can settle back, look forward to cooler fall weather, and listen to my husband sing every week, “Are you ready for some FOOTBALL?” Only seventeen-plus more weeks of that, but who’s counting?