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Thirty-three days.
One month and two days
4 weeks and 5 days. 792 hours.
47,520 minutes.
2,851,200 seconds.

All of our scheduled activities are behind us.  The remainder of summer stretches in front of us, a distance speck on the horizon that comes closer with every passing day.  I can clearly recall the beginning of summer lumbering toward me like a bristling, tusked wildebeest.  Now, here I am, with the better part of the summer behind me, wondering where it all went.

There were camps. There were visits to the grandparents.  There were those two weeks of recuperation from tenolysis surgery where I ended up doing less convalescing and more running interference between the children.  There was the week to myself while the girls were away, followed by several days of foolishness with my brother.

We had swim team. We had play dates. We went shopping.  We went to the library. We went to the fountains at the mall.  I wrote. They colored.  The TV was on and the gaming system put to use.  I followed my own advice and said “yes” to the things that were fun, that I would really enjoy doing with the kids and “no” to the things that would require more of me than I was willing to give.

I want our summers to be spent at the beach, dashing to and from the surf, our noses peeeling, our bodies a chestnut brown and smelling of sunscreen and sunshine.  I realize that sometimes it can’t always be that way, so you make the best of what you have and plan for the future.

Ultimately, summer is not about how much you can cram into your days so when the first day of school comes around, you can crow about how busy you’ve been.  There’s no prize for filling up your summer with camps and activities, unless you count fatigue.  I don’t.  There were days and I’m sure there will be a few more, when I reconsidered my stance on having the girls go to camps.  Then there were other days when the planets aligned, and I was more patient.  The girls responded in kind and that made for wonderful times.

My oldest spent the better part of the summer asking me what comes next, what comes next, what comes next.  Finally, I told her that it was frustrating for me to be harangued like that.  I explained that sometimes, I didn’t know, or sometimes I’d rather not say for fear of the wrath of disappointment that could follow.  I don’t know what comes next between now and the first day of school.  Probably more of what we’ve been doing — library, pool, visiting family and such.  Maybe we’ll go to the zoo or Maymont.  Maybe we’ll play with some friends at the playground.  Maybe we’ll all take naps (yeah, right!).  I’m not worried about it, though.  The next day will come and we’ll keep on going strong all the way through to the end of the season.