A few evenings ago, as dinner time neared, I got a text from my dear friend Amanda:
“Tell me there have been some days this summer where Paige has looked at a screen until her eyes fall out. The kids have been busy, but today they have literally looked at screens from wake-up until now. I am tired. I am hot. I don’t want to entertain them.”
“SOME days?!” I replied.
“Try MOST,” I said, already feeling the summer stretching out in a string of video games and junk food wrapper boredom.
“Thank God,” she replied, and we laughed it off together,
both feeling seen and supported.
Every year I tell myself it won’t be that way, while the tiny devil on my shoulder smirks and tells me I’m living a delusion.
I try to plan things for us all to do, but it never feels quite enough.
I don’t remember my parents planning even three days of my summers as a kid.
I don’t know why I feel such pressure.
I was much more creative with my free time, I think.
I’d be out digging a trench, or dissecting roadkill in my back yard if given an unstructured hour.
It gets depressing to look over and see my kids all glued to their phones these days.
Sometimes I wish smartphones were never invented.
On Saturday, in the middle of an intense heat wave, I spontaneously asked them all if they wanted to go swimming, and, frustrated by their half-hearted response, I instructed them to just go grab towels.
My friend Lisa had told us we could come swimming at her complex any time we wanted, and I couldn’t sit there watching them like zombies for one more second.
We were disappointed, though, when we arrived at the pool, to see it positively swarming with people.
We climbed back in the car, sticking once again to the seats,
and tried to come up with another game-plan.
That is when I remembered that someone had mentioned a local river spot I’d been wanting to try, and, even though we hadn’t planned for it at all, I decided it was as good a time as any to take them on a spontaneous adventure.
At first, Paige complained. No real shocker there.
She is twelve. Complaining is required.
She is a homebody, who has a spot in the couch we call “The Nest.”
I’m scared to move the throw pillows there around too much for fear I may find a squatter.
Going swimming for an hour was already enough of a stretch for her.
She slumped, “Couldn’t you just take me home first?”
But, I made her come along, and within 15 minutes, we were driving westward through the Golden-Hour vineyards.
The car grew quiet as we looked at the view we rarely see, even though we live close enough to go daily.
It reminded me of how much is around us if we just look up once in a while. Step back from ourselves.
I felt guilty, almost, thinking about those back-roads existing while we just sit at home watching 90 Day Fiance’.
From the minute we headed down the wooded path to the beach,
I could tell I had made the right decision.
The temperature outside felt like an absolute dream, and because we had come later in the day there was plenty of open space to lay our towels.
The girls ran to the water, laughing.
I watched as a family of ducks scattered.
Children played, and dragonflies buzzed by.
Their hum made me feel soothed, transported.
Before long, it was obvious Paige had forgotten about going home, or a screen,
as she came to me with her fingers clasped, telling me to hold out my own hand, grinning.
When she opened her fingers, she placed a perfect heart-shaped rock into my palm;
I took it as a “right path” sign from heaven.
I had spent countless days in my teen years on the banks of that very river.
My memories of that time are some of my best ones, and are set to the backdrop of reggae, belonging, and laughter.
I thought as I sat there watching the girls in the water goofing off, how our children only live a life that we give them the tools for.
I was taught by my father to appreciate the world around me,
and I want that to be a thing they take from me, as well.
I want “Look up” to be the words that describe what I lived for.
My wish for every summer is that I make way for new things.
It doesn’t cost anything to have our eyes open.
I don’t want my children living a life of watching someone ELSE doing things on a screen.
I want them knowing the world holds endless possibilities;
That there is no end to the river.
I want them to know the beauty in things like spontaneous trips to the beach,
even though you didn’t pack all the right stuff with you.
I want them to sit silent, and awe-struck at the sight of the sun setting over the trees.
I want them unafraid of having their toes suddenly surrounded by minnows.
I want the smell of a campfire to become part of their DNA;
But, most importantly,
I want them to know that any time their first plan falls through,
It might just be because, on up ahead,
An even better thing is waiting for them.
Mom Outnumbered
Hi! My name is Kerri Green; Wife to Justin, and mother to four highly entertaining daughters -Alena, Chloe, Tessa, and Paige. I am an artist, a writer, a daycare provider, a lover of people, a believer that there is humor and beauty in all things, and the author of Mom Outnumbered; a blog about real family life, and my observations of it. My goal is to make people laugh, to be there for them when they cry, and most importantly, to let them know that they are not at all alone in this up and down world. I live with my family in Sebastopol California, and I am opening the window into our life. So welcome! Come in. Sit down. Just please don’t mind the mysterious wet spots.
