Dear Summer Self

a playful, honest letter to myself when the summer slumps hit

*This piece was inspired by a writing prompt from EXHALE, an online group of mamas who love storytelling, motherhood, and art. A few days before reading this prompt, in the quiet school hours, I thought, “I should write a letter to my summer self so I remember I’m gonna make it.” When I came across this prompt, I took it as a sign to open a blank document and begin.*

Dear Summer Self,

I’ve been thinking of you lately as school rhythms kick into high gear. You finally opened this letter which means one thing- you hit the mid summer slumps. Everywhere you look parched plants, swarms of mosquitos, and overly energetic, argumentative tiny humans clamor for your attention. The first day of school shines on the horizon, but looks like a speck in the distance and the journey between feels impossible.

This letter is a free pep talk so you don’t need to make an appointment with your counselor yet. Although by all means, call her asap if you need. I don’t always know what I’m talking about, but sometimes- I do.

(Pro tip: if you need a quiet moment to read this, go shut yourself in the bathroom and tell the kids you’re going potty. Don’t forget to lock the door.)

I’ll cut to the chase since you don’t have all day. You’re gonna make it and you’re a great mom.

Shut down the rebuttal right now, the shaming voice: You should have seen the way I raised my voice yesterday. You should have seen my impatience at the park when the kids fought non-stop. You should have seen me stare at my computer instead of into my daughter’s eyes as she told me a story.

Here’s what I see.

I see you cut up apples and gather your kids around the table for snack time while you read a devotion. I see you sweep crumbs and wash dishes. Again. I see you text friends to organize playdates then pack up 5 towels, 2 bottles of sunscreen, 3 changes of clothes, and a boatload of snacks. I see you read Go, Dog, Go for the 200th time. I see you comfort your littlest while she cries, her snotty nose pressed against your shirt you won’t bother to change. I see you tuck your children into bed, pausing for prayers together even though you’re desperate to turn the lights off and call it a day. I see you hug them in the morning, their disheveled hair and sleepy grins stirring the purest love in your heart. You’re doing the hard, good, beautiful, unseen work of motherhood and it matters. You’re a great mom.

_________

The cooler weather signals a change of season here. The kids have been in school for a month and we’re doing pretty good. As I type, a flickering candle sends notes of lavender and eucalyptus into the sunroom. The gentle pitter-patter of rain soothes me through the open window. The sacred hour has arrived. You know the one- nap time. Only a thimble full of tea remains in my mug. Amazingly, I drank it all hot with zero interruptions from tiny humans (Oh wait- Trace did interrupted one time to show me his lego creation, but I didn’t mind).

The clock reads 2:33pm. In about four minutes, I’ll pause my writing and walk to the end of our driveway to greet Brooke when the bus drops her off. She’ll jump out all smiles because she loves school.

Here’s my reminder about school because I know you overthink things: you’re not a bad mom for putting her in school, public school mind you. You love Jesus and you want his light to shine through her at school. Trust me, she shines there. 

A few days ago she came home with a beautiful drawing she colored at school- a side view of her hand cradling an apple with a light shining on it and the words “God made the light” written at the bottom. Do you remember that?

And don’t forget about the summer before she started kindergarten. I witnessed you pray and wrestle with your decision to put her in public school until the Lord gave you a deep peace. Your perspective as a former teacher shapes your hope for the rich, diverse community that can arise in schools, but the choice remains a weighty matter when considering what’s right for your own family. I know it’s an uncommon thought, but public school can be a calling too.

This morning, I dropped Trace and Tessa off at preschool right around the corner. I initially battled mom guilt for putting my one year old in Mother’s Morning Out two mornings a week…

__________

Sorry if there’a break in flow. The bus pulled up mid paragraph. It’s now 8:23pm and I finally have a moment to keep writing.

I tried to continue while the kids snacked, but you know how that goes. It doesn’t. Their energetic bodies required outdoor time regardless of the rain or my desire to write. Brooke begged to go on a rain walk. I almost said no, but remembered this letter and decided to seize the day. Life is short and rain walks are memorable and after all, this is hard, good, beautiful work we’re doing and whatever other crap I said earlier in my letter. Just kidding. I do believe everything I said about motherhood. Most of the time.

I’d be lying if I said it was a great walk though. Trace cried most of the way because he didn’t want to go. I told him we were headed to Costco after and he couldn’t have any samples if he kept complaining. I think he did complain one or two times after, but I let it slide because I didn’t want him to be a mess at Costco (don’t judge me). But hey, I took all three kids to Costco in the rain by myself. I know what you’re thinking right now, “Cry me a river. I’ve been taking all three kids to the grocery store every week this summer.” Yes, I can’t complain at all. Most weeks, with the kids in school now, I shop by myself or with only Tessa. It’s more peaceful for sure. I’m sorry grocery store trips are tough right now. Hang in there. Don’t forget about ALDI grocery pick up. You should do that more often.

However, if you need to go to Costco, consider going at 4pm in the afternoon when it is practically empty. The outing then becomes more pleasant for all involved. Although it’s never pleasant on the wallet. I went in with 5 items on my list and walked out 25 minutes later (7 of which were spent taking everyone to the bathroom) with 13 items costing $194.13. How is that possible? You know what’s even crazier? Last time I stood in the check out line at Costco, the man behind me had only 1 item in his hand! Seems like a sheer miracle. Or at the very least, iron clad willpower.

___________

Anyhow, back to my school musings. When everyone posted their back to school photos, I proudly shared “first day” pictures of Brooke and Trace. Can I confess something to you? I didn’t post one of Tessa for Mother’s Morning Out, even though I did take a picture of her. I rationalized it, told myself I didn’t have to because it wasn’t technically preschool. After a few days passed, I convinced myself it was too late to share. But if I’m honest, I weighted myself down with mom guilt, afraid people might judge me.

Right before her first day, a few moms shared sweet little pictures on social media of their homeschooling set up and I felt like the worst mom in the world. How are these moms juggling more kids than me all day and successfully teaching them? And I’m excited to drop my one year old off at preschool for 3 hours tomorrow? What’s wrong with me?

Of course, I’m my own worst enemy, the harshest judge, the biggest critic. It’s ridiculous I know. No one has said a word of judgement to me. Everyone makes a million different decisions for a million different reasons, but my mind struggled to be kind and gracious to myself.

Let me tell you what happened her first day of Mother’s Morning Out. She walked in all smiles because she already knew the teacher. Relieved, I drove home in a very quiet car, tears of gratitude silently rolling down my cheeks. I jogged through a nearby neighborhood pausing at their lakeside gazebo, the wind in my hair, the sun on my face (cue “Happy” by Pharrell Williams in the background). As I gazed out over the lake, my mind replayed one humorous thought, “I’m so glad no one will scream at me for the next couple hours.” I walked home, showered, and completed a few chores while I listened to a podcast. When I picked her up, I felt like a different mom. Present, happy, peaceful. She cried the whole drive home, but I just smiled, unfazed and ready to love her well.

She’s been in school for 4 weeks. It’s still lovely. I scheduled two doctor appointments during her school hours and did not need to stress about finding childcare. Deep cleaning chores can get checked off more frequently too. I’m embarrassed to admit this, but I cleaned our shower for the first time in months last week. And my favorite, I can carve out time to be creative.

God is tenderly shaping me and I know he’s doing the same with you this summer. Slow down today. Look a little longer at your children. Take it all in. Their laugh, their gait, their tiny hands, their kisses, their silly stories.

Grab the popsicles and chalk. Play outside with the kids for a bit. Next, turn on a movie, not a 30 minutes show, but a nice, long movie (they love Mary Poppins!). You don’t need permission from me, but I’m giving it anyways to alleviate any mom guilt. Lastly, open a blank Word document or pull out your paintbrushes or simply put your feet up on the back porch with a sparkling water in hand.

You’re doing a good job mama. I love you.

Yours truly,

Autumn Self

P.S. I know I’m feeling all happy here in September, but I anticipate a low around February or March. You know those how those winter blues affect us. So please do write to Winter Self. She’ll need a pep talk too.