My One Regret

Summer is such a wonderful time of year for me. I love how relaxed, how carefree, how stagnant I become.

Now, you might be wondering, if I was so relaxed, carefree and stagnant, why wasn't I blogging more this summer?

Um, hello? When I said I was stagnant I was not referring to my rear end...well, too much. What I was referring to was my BRAIN.

I remember, as a child, going back to school each year after seemingly everlasting summer vacations and realizing that I had lost all dexterity in my hands. My muscles actually forgot how to write. The simple act of holding a pencil in my hand felt oddly foreign to me. It was a feeling much like trying to write a word that you're sure you know how to spell, but for some reason, at that moment, you stare at the letters like they're Greek until, finally, you turn to a neighbor and ask, "Does that look right to you?" At which time they nod and look at you with suspicion, wondering what person in their right mind forgets how to spell their own name...

Try as I might, I have not been able to figure out a way to function in the world as an adult without picking up a pen or pencil for two months. At the very least, those pesky sales people demand I sign the credit card slip. This may be the reason I've developed the tradition of offering other body parts an opportunity to atrophy during the summer months.

While I am not a person who has experienced much success at truly relaxing (I'm neurotic, remember?), I do enjoy rotting my brain. I have to admit that I have many fond memories of summers spent camping out in front of the predictable agenda of daytime television; sitting Indian style* at my coffee table, enjoying a homemade spinach, tomato and mushroom personal pizza for lunch, watching Starting Over; rocking sleeping babies all the way from Regis & Kelly to the end of Martha Stewart. For a few months of every year, I take pleasure in watching General Hospital. I even enjoy the initial stage of momentary confusion (and it is truly only momentary) while I try to fill in the blanks of a year's worth of storyline.

I'm sorry to say that I did not wallow in my summer this year as I have in years past. Perhaps it was the presence of my little shadows. Perhaps it was their own strong opinions about what channel we should be watching. Perhaps it was the absence of any sleepy little babies requiring multiple daily naps. Perhaps it was the growing workload accompanying my growing family, or my growing sense of responsibility to the world around me (a.k.a. screaming children, barking dogs, and my ever-expanding behind) compelling me to get up and do something.

I strive to live a life that will allow me, in the end, to look back and say, "I have no regrets." This summer, I failed. I regret that I did not spend more days in my pajamas, watching mind-numbing, slightly entertaining, daytime television this summer...because I love that.

I suppose there's always next year.

*I know this term is, apparently, politically incorrect now. However, this is what we called it when I grew up and it is what I THINK when I think of sitting cross-legged on the floor. In my classroom I call it "criss-cross", or when I taught 1st grade, "criss-cross applesauce". But this is my blog and I can call it what I want, so there.