Summer ... how times have changed

August, huh? The summer days are just flying on by, aren't they? I can't say I'm sad about it. I'm not a big fan. My days of peaceful beach outings are gone. My solo trips to the Beavertail cliffs with a towel, iPod and water bottle are a distant memory. Now a day at the shore requires a full staff just to carry the gear and another to tackle the kids. I might sit down just long enough to get shit on by a seagull. MIGHT.

But I am enjoying certain elements of the summer. I keep reminding Scarlett of the importance of lazy mornings. Come September it's full time school for thirteen years. Oh, to think of the crusts I'll be cutting off. I've made my school supplies lists and plan to finish that sooner than later. I don't want to be throwing punches over an eight pack of crayons while someone rips the Ticonderogas out of my cart. I'm not one to shop in a crowd. Or to do much else in a crowd for that matter... I need my space. We went to Mystic Aquarium last week and I shuddered as I was touched by every elbow, diaper bag and plush squid. A Pearl Jam concert is pretty much the only acceptable crowd I'll be found in. I'll take a few drunkards scream-singing Rearviewmirror over a family of ten rushing the sting ray tank any day.

My kids are driving me frigging crazy though. I'm finally at that point where I "get it". The glee that moms feel when the initial back-to-school ads are shown in like July. The parents cheering as the first day of school arrives, shoving their kid down the front steps, chucking their lunch bag through the bus window. I never understood it before and always kinda felt like it was harsh but now having gone through a collection of days where I literally yell for what feels like sixty seven hours straight I get it. When I look back on the former me I can't remember yelling more than a handful of times in my life. Aside from fights with my parents as a rude, inconsiderate teen - I don't think I ever yelled. I mean, what the hell would I yell about? If the post office was out of Charlie Brown stamps and I got stuck with the holiday birds? If my neighbor was blasting his shit music in the driveway for hours? If I was stuck in traffic on a bridge for two hours on a Friday evening? Nope. Not yelling over any of that jazz. Now? I steady yell. In fact, I think my regular speaking voice is actually a half yell now. My eyebrows are now stuck in permanent stern-face position. I begin yelling before 7:30 am. It doesn't end until 9 pm some days. It's exhausting being continuously pissed off. There are glorious moments in between where the girls are getting along nicely and actually playing together without bloodshed or when Daisy finally takes a good nap. When Scarlett is helpful and doesn't fight me on every single thing I tell her to do. Those moments are fleeting though. And my boiling point is quickly reached over and over again. It always works best if I separate the girls. They can be excellent when unhindered. Scarlett is too used to getting things her own way and Daisy is just trying to be two. The mix can be devastating. I force them together as much as possible to try to crack the code but sometimes it's best if I just put them in solitary.

I look back on my summer vacations as a child and realize those were truly some of the best times of my life. Playing outside with friends from sunup to sundown. Eight hour days at the beach. Pool swimming followed by lazy cartoon-filled afternoons. Ahhhh... to be a kid again.

Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go rip a crocodile game out of my kid's hands.

I miss Rocky Point...

Yesterday morning, as I was reading blogs and drinking coffee, I heard a song on the television that stopped me dead in my recliner. It was Van Halen's Panama. I was instantly transported back in time about twenty-five years and I was listening to that very song on the Musik Express ride at Rocky Point while enjoying the breeze with my bestest friends.

Rocky Point Park was just awesome. When I was a kid it was the absolute coolest way to spend a day with friends. Our parents would usually come along and give us a time and place to meet at the end of the day. These were the best of those long days of summer vacation - packed with the feelings of freedom, invincibility and many, many crushes on many, many boys. We met up with friends and spent hours running from ride to ride, getting drinks and snacks from the various venders, playing games with cheesy prizes, cooling off on the log flume ride and enjoying every single second. Nights were even more fun as the sun set and the stage was set up for bands. The views overlooking the bay from the super high rides were just amazing. And I loved every ride, the slow, the fast and the scary - but the crazier the better. Rocky Point had something for everyone.

Oh, how I wish it hadn't closed. I wish it was still a functioning amusement park. And - even though I grew to loathe the Rocky Point Shore Dinner Hall after having worked there in my teens - I wish I could go right this second and sit by those big old windows enjoying the best clam-cakes around. I'd love to find a place like this to take Scarlett to. I want her to have a special place to look back on with such fond memories as these. We were so lucky to have what felt like a gigantic personal carnival in our hometown. I miss Rocky Point!!

my summer of '69

I was driving a very familiar route this morning, windows down, music loud enough for me but not too loud for Scarlett. The weather was just perfect. The kids are out of school this week, April vacation. I pulled down a street to find children happily playing in their front yard. A little girl, skinny with youth, bouncing a basketball in her driveway. Her brother playfully falling down in the grass. I started to think back to when April vacation meant something to me. To when summer vacation meant the world to me.

Has it really been over twenty-five years since I was one of those children?? 

I was suddenly flooded by wonderful memories. Memories of my brother, who is three years older than I am, riding bikes with me for hours on end. Pretending to be "Cops and Robbers." Playing with our matchbox cars on the front steps to our home. Going through our big, red barrel of sports equipment everyday that it didn't rain and switching from soccer to baseball, basketball, football and tennis. Memories of my best friend Kim, who lived right across the street, playing Chinese Jump Rope. Hopscotch. Making "meals" out of orange berries in my plastic dishes that spent their downtime in my mother's old Fry-Daddy box. Sitting our favorite dolls in their highchairs and playing hairdresser, making some serious mistakes with our scissors. Perfecting our cartwheels, round-offs and back-handsprings. Not without injury. And requesting a bewildering amount of sleepovers.

We woke early. Everyday. We couldn't wait to get outside. Once we were out we never wanted to go back in again. There were endless games to play.

The song "Summer of '69" by Bryan Adams came on while I was daydreaming on this morning's car ride. And while I wasn't even an idea in my mother's mind back in 1969 I couldn't help relating to this song. After all, the height of its popularity was back in the very amazing, carefree times I was reminiscing of...

"Oh when I look back now
That summer seemed to last forever
And if I had the choice
Yeah, I'd always want to be there
Those were the best days of my life"

While I don't whole-heartedly believe that those were the best days of my LIFE I do believe that those were golden times. We had not a care in the world. We were young and filled with hope and excitability. We had a long road ahead of us and knew nothing of what it would entail. We didn't worry. Our days were endless and time was on our side. Youth is marvelous. If only we could understand that while we have the privilege of living those tender years...