I am not a fan of August. Around these parts it’s hot and humid to the extreme. We’re battling mosquitos, ants, and squirrels too (yes, they did eat through our trash can to eat some rotten potatoes). Summer has been in full throttle for some time, and my energy levels have dropped. The Type-A part of me yearns for organization and routine, yet the calendar belies my wishes. September and the preschool year remain far away.
Last week was hard. After returning from a picture-perfect stint at the beach, I had to gather my bearings. My children, after months and months of fun, were anything but angelic, and we needed to make a few difficult decisions about the school year and life in general. Plus, after working like a crazy woman in July, my freelance pipeline had slowed (it is August!), and I had too much time to think.
Thankfully, after a calm weekend where I focused on family, our farm share, and not much else, I am back to reality. The second floor is clean, the panty is organized, and the kids are eating healthy food again. And today reminded me that I was well aware of how much I hate August: I dropped Nora off at camp, the first of many structured activities this month.
I am trying to change my approach here and embrace the slower work schedule, enjoy the remaining weeks without a hectic docket, and engage with my cooking skills again to enjoy summer’s bounty. Wish me luck!