Summer. Summer. Summer.

It can’t come fast enough. Holy cracker barrel, am I ever excited for my kids to be out of school. I’m sick of homework and waking up early. Boo on all that. I’m ready for lazy days of doing whatever we want, whenever we want–like rolling out of bed at 8 a.m. instead of 6:30, and feeding my kids second breakfast while they watch Wreck It Ralph. And playing ball, and riding bikes on the trail behind the golf course, and looking for animal tracks, and going to the library in the middle of the day, and not remembering to cook dinner until 7 p.m. because it’s not dark whatsoever even by then.

Oh I love summer so much.

Merrick’s birthday is next week. He’ll only be 5, so I have a whole 13 years before I worry about him going off to college to become a professional crime-fighting skateboarder.

Cheyenne’s 17th birthday is at the end of the month; this year she will be spending 2 entire months in Baltimore visiting her dad and doing college tours over on the east coast. I’m in a little bit of denial and I’m still holding out for a last minute change of heart in favor of an Oklahoma school. Baltimore is just a little too far–how am I supposed to come see her twice a week to make sure she’s eating healthy food and not Cinnamon Toast Crunch 3 times a day?

I do hope she reconsiders the Maryland thing. 2 months over the summer is one thing–but a whole college career? What about hurricanes? What about shady government-types? What happens when the zombie apocalypse comes and she’s stuck in rush hour traffic trying to get back to her teeny apartment in the middle of a dangerous city? Won’t she then wish she had stayed in the big wide open (and hurricane-free, I might add) spaces of the prairie, where she can grow her own food and help protect our underground fortress, which we are sure to build at some point? Is Oklahoma not just the most practical place you ever imagined living?

It will be so weird around here over the next few months without Cheyenne. I guess I could look at it as practice for what’s to come.


About Toni

Mom. Wife. Artist. I take care of the kids and pretend to clean sometimes. I can cook spagetti and I have never been arrested. View all posts by Toni

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