philly burbs mama

Last night we got our new soccer schedule in ALL CAPS. My daughter’s new coach was obviously screaming at me to get with it and say goodbye to summer.

Because I’m a worrier by nature, I’m freaking about all the things I’ve let slip. First off, I’ve become lazy without any definite place to go each morning. Smalls spends the better part of her day in PJ’s or half naked and then changes into a bikini, which is basically no change at all. Breakfast has become a pleasant experience in our home rather than the thrown granola bar I sometimes provided on rushed school mornings.

Last year, as school progressed, I became consumed by the irrational desire to get ready in as little time as possible. “LET’s go!, let’s GO!, Let’s GOOOO!,” was the only thing I said from 7:30 until 7:50 each morning. I’m sure it was 20 minutes of pure hell for my kid.

The thing is, Smalls is not the problem. It’s me. She has consistently woken up at 7AM since she was 2. I love my child, but she gets up insanely early sometimes reaching into 6 o’clock territory. I party till the break of dawn so we’re complete opposites. I practically run around the block when she goes to bed. FREE TIME! Movies without being instructed to decipher every second frame, internet geeking without interruption, no shrieking for me to wipe a butt. It’s glorious. There’s nothing like bedtime for a mother. In a way you become a more liberated Cinderella. Eff the prince part. You throw in the towel, hang up the rag, ditch the bitches, and get on with what you want to do, whenever you want to do it. Most of my time is spent writing, but my mornings are a drawback. There’s always one, isn’t there?

This summer, I have taken the utmost care to perfect the do-it-yourself breakfast. I dropped hints like a bowl and a box of Cheerios left on the counter. Some mornings Smalls would get it all wrong and go straight for ice cream or left over Chinese take out, and not too long ago, Cheerios, milk, and cookies. She’s close. I gotta give her that. However, I’m confident that the occasional eat-whatever-I-can-before-mom-gets-up is just a phase. Who doesn’t get a little bonkers when the first bit of freedom breezes by? Plus, it will lead to a less stressful morning caused by jackass me.

I am, however, a little sad that summer has come and almost gone. There were places we didn’t go, things we didn’t get to, motivation I couldn’t grasp. Summer, to me, feels like one big bummer of a New Year’s resolution; where you join all the other fatties or soon-to-be brides at Weight Watchers January 2^nd, singing the glorious pound-dropping point system only to find yourself disgruntled by March and still chock full of rolls come June. But, the hell with it. I’m hitched and therefore don’t care. Plus, my kid can make her own breakfast. Summer, I guess, was glorious. Now, LET’S GO!