Summertime.

Apparently, I get one ounce of recognition and then never post again. I always knew that deep down, I was shallow. Heh.

The past few weeks have been filled with little league baseball games, rainouts, playdates, parties, golf tournaments, sleepovers, swim meets and more. I'd like to say it's been SO FUN but none of these activities actually involved me at any level other than chauffeur, so...not so much.

When the boys were very small, I used to expound the virtues of extra curricular activity. I'd say, "We must put them in many sports when they are young! This way, they will be good athletes! They will make their high school teams and I will know that after school they are at practice and not smoking behind a dumpster somewhere!"

At this point, I'm considering purchasing them some Marlboro Lights and dropping them off behind the 7-11. Because really? I know a lot of successful people who were total losers in high school. Okay, more like two people, but that's actually really good odds I'm thinking. Right?

I'm kind of one of them. I wasn't exactly a stoner in elementary school, but I was not in organized sports at age 9. I wasn't on tournament teams that practiced ohmygawd TWICE A DAY. Not because I couldn't make a team...there just wasn't any such damned thing then. In the bustling metropolis (not) where I grew up, summer time activities included:
1. swimming lessons in the morning, Tuesday-Friday mornings.
2. swimming at the pool in the afternoon, Tuesday - Sundays, 1pm to 6pm.
3. riding your bike in circles in between swimming lessons and 1pm.

Mondays sucked.

There was a summer reading program at the aqua metal barn we called a "library," but that was fairly lame since you had to read 8 books to earn one point, and all five points got you was a ticket to storytime, read by the bewigged librarian who didn't ever believe me that I read 8 books a day, oh and it was also closed on Mondays. You'd think in a town of 900 people, they could coordinate to have the stupid library open on the day the pool was closed, but whatever. Maybe the librarian was the pool cleaner.

Actually, there was one other option for little girls. Softball. But I wasn't on the softball team. I remember getting the flyer and running it home, completely psyched to get to play, to get a uniform, to be on a team. My parents didn't agree. For some reason, they didn't want me wearing a tshirt that one of the moms handpainted with the team name: Kuntry Kittens.

Boring summers led me to look forward to school starting - almost as much as I do now. Then it was to have something, ANYTHING, to do. Now, it's just so I can let my kids sleep in. I love seeing them succeed - I love seeing them grinning with big trophies and cute uniforms and All Star caps with their names embroidered on them. I love home runs and double plays and sliding in for the winning run. But just once, I'd like to hear them whine that they're bored. I'd like them stay out past dark finding worms or playing tag with the neighbor kids without worrying they have to be up early the next day. I'd like them to have time to get in trouble. I'd like to let them be kids.