I’ll admit it: I had high hopes for this summer. We skidded to an embarrassingly poor finish at the end of the school year and once I had burned all the planners and art projects and mould-covered lunch boxes, I was like, “OK! Here we go! It’s summer! We made it! Let’s make a family bucket list with ridiculously high expectations so we can all feel like we have failed come September!”

We are almost half way through the summer break and if I scroll through the photos I’ve taken of the last few weeks, we have had some fun times:

Boat rides, beach time, backyard concerts, a road trip for me and Steve, playdates, bbqs. I have just struggled to be fully present for all of it, though. Between regular work demands (which are unpredictable) and then juggling the needs of three kids who are IN THE HOUSE ALL DAY, EVERY DAY, I find myself kind of on the edge of scraping by, as opposed to thriving like a summer goddess.

I vacillate between telling myself that it’s OK if I find summers hard, that I don’t have to love every moment of them, but then I look at this amazing place we live in, with the placid lake, the sandy beaches and it feels wrong to not just be enjoying the crap out of it, all the time. Also, the kids are growing up and I know we only get 18 summers total with them when they’re kids and if my math is correct (which, let’s be honest: there’s a good chance it’s not) then Avelyn only has four summer left before she LEAVES US FOREVER. And then I start freaking out about the wasted moments, the missed opportunities and I spiral into a stressed-out pit of despair.

Also, when life gets busy, why is it so hard to take care of myself? I stopped taking iron supplements because they weren’t improving my levels….turns out I’m leaking like a sieve due to a nice, juicy fibroid that’s growing in my tired-out uterus (I’m not going to apologize if that’s TMI…this used to be an oversharing mommy-blog now it’s an oversharing peri-menopause blog. Buckle up, friends! Let’s talk about it!) and summer is just such an easy season to drink too much wine, eat too many chips, sleep in and miss my morning workout. And then I wonder why I feel like garbage? Augh.

Here’s what I do know, though:

Life is good. I am deeply thankful, right down to my bones, for the life we have been given. We are just continuing to learn how not to suck at living it well. And it’s a process. We are learning, and it’s OK if it’s not easy. Also, I know that time flies.

This was taken the day Avelyn turned one year old and the orchard got hailed out and the basement flooded in our rental home. It was a crazy day, filled with stress, but then an amazing rainbow lit up across the gloomy sky and I held my girl and was thankful in that moment. I guess that’s all we can do. And last week she turned 13 (what is EVEN HAPPENING?!) and life continues to press in with its wild demands but I found myself again drawn to remember how amazing this all is, and just stop and be thankful for her, for her sisters, for Steve, for our home, our friends, our life.

I’m not trying to tie this all up with a bow, because I have no answers about how to live a balanced, perfect life, but maybe that’s not the point? Maybe it’s about remembering to look up, see the colours and feel the arms of those you love around you. And also, if your summer is harder than you hoped it would be, you are not alone.