Lamenting summer activities left undone
Labor Day, as any reputable historian will tell you, is a celebration that dates back to ancient times when all women gave birth on the same day. Thankfully, reproductive rights have progressed to the point of allowing women to have babies at other times of the year as well.
We still celebrate Labor Day, though, because it’s the last day you can wear white without inviting public scorn. Labor Day is also known as Pumpkin Spice Eve, meaning you only have to wait one more day before enjoying all things pumpkin-spiced and not be accused of rushing things.
Labor Day is also the last day of summer. Those of you who insist on things like facts and accuracy will, no doubt, point out that summer doesn’t technically end for another couple weeks. But those of us whose lives are still controlled by the public school schedule know that, once those yellow buses go rolling through the neighborhood, summer is over.
For most of us, that will be on Wednesday, which means that Monday — Labor Day — is summer’s last day. Summer does not extend into Tuesday because Tuesday is reserved for shopping. Ideally, back-to-school shopping would be done ahead of time, but every parent knows that Labor Day is also the day children’s feet magically grow overnight so their shoes no longer fit.
It’s not easy, at that late date, to find shoes that not only are the right size but also comply with some unwritten code of acceptability that my children are unable to articulate. At least our arguments in the shoe aisle give me time to remember that I don’t have any food for school lunches, unless I can figure out a way to keep Popsicles from melting. And also to remember that I still need to buy a few things on the school supply list. Okay, all of the things on the school supply list.
So with only one day left, I’m running out of time to get all of the things done that I wanted to accomplish this summer. I didn’t mean to wait until the
last minute, but my perception of time gets skewed during the summer months. That’s because it’s a proven scientific fact that the sun speeds up (or the Earth — no need to get too technical, it’s still summer vacation after all), making the 10 weeks of summer vacation go by faster than the other 55 weeks of the year (or 42, if you’re going to be a stickler for details). So one minute summer seems as unending as the possible sequels to a superhero movie, and the next minute I’m trying to convince my 14-yearold son that saddle shoes are a thing.
Maybe the problem was making summer plans in the first place. Not having plans was the beauty of summer when I was a kid. Back then, the biggest question of the day was who was going to be “it” and whether we were going to play red rover, spud, or sardines. We didn’t have a lot of structured time and the only educational lesson most of us ever learned was that, despite our best efforts, no one actually dies of boredom.
I still want that kind of summer, both for my children and for myself, except for the lots of unstructured time part. That seems to be a hard habit to break. So while we may take a break from school year routines, it’s easy to fill the schedule with different routines. This summer involved getting my son to the boathouse for crew practice at 5:30 in the morning. I don’t think anyone puts “get less sleep” on their summer activity wish list.
To make matters worse, I don’t trust myself to come up with fun things to do on my own. So I print summer bucket lists from lifestyle and parenting websites that promise if I curate my summers with the right blend of artisanal activities, we’ll all have a wonderful time. None of the boxes on this year’s list are checked, unless you count some random Popsicle stains. It’s hard to believe summer’s almost over and we never made our own Playdoh or launched a sidewalk chalk art gallery. Again this year. Too bad hosting a Popsicle eating contest wasn’t on the list.
Next year I’ll make my own list with more feasible activities. I’ll definitely include wearing more white, eating more Popsicles, and getting a jump on the pumpkin spice season. If I have any time left over, I’ll try to figure out a way to slow down the sun.