Little Lightbulbs

M ost people wouldn't classify me as a terrible summertime mom. I mean, I've already shared with my readers the color-coded calendar I hold in such high esteem. I'm very good at finding activities for my children to participate in during the hot summer months. It's the downtime I have trouble with.  That, my friends, is what makes me a terrible summertime mom.  I work. Which means that my time with my kids is relegated to anytime during the week after 1 and before 8 or 9 p.m. (preferably 8). That's usually when my kids want to go to wet places like the pool or the splash pad or the lake.  Now, I do love summer. Really. I grew up frolicking lakeside with my cousins, skiing, wake boarding and living in my swimsuit. It never bothered me that my diet consisted mainly of Rainbow white bread and bologna. In fact, at 10 years old, I liked it that way. I don't remember a lot of adults hovering around. Heck, I don't think I ever wore floaties or a life jack...

Do you see that picture? That's my kids' summer schedule, and it's a thing of beauty. All those color-coded, scheduled events read like a Monet painting to my eyes. But I've sort of always been that way. I like structure and schedules, knowing what's coming next, and having plans B and C ready to go in case (heaven forbid) my original plan gets shredded. But while I really like to have something set for every minute of the day, I know it can be trying on my kiddos. So, I made a radical (for me) decision for this summer. I decided to schedule weeks of nothingness amid the camps and trips. Now, let me explain why this is a big deal for me. And by big, I mean HUGE. When I first met my husband, I was about as rigid as you could get. I liked to be spontaneous, as long as it was carefully planned out. And sitting down for a "quiet moment" was not among my favorite things. I felt antsy, like I needed to be doing something more ... productive. My husband...

I'm sure I'm not the only one who feels this way. In fact, I've heard other work-at-home moms talk about the see-saw effect of "having the best of both worlds." Still, I feel alone when I have my fleeting "I wish I still worked outside the home" thoughts. There are occasions when I just can't hear a pleading "Mommy" one more time, no matter how adorable the face is that it's coming out of. Instead, I long for those days when I could drop my children off at day care and retreat to my mound of work for the day, leaving someone else to wipe the poop, drool, food remnants and milk from their bodies. But, again, those are very fleeting and rare moments.  Usually they are brought on by a week like the one I just had, when, in the feast-or-famine world of self-employment, I experienced the feast. Not normally something I'd complain about, it came on the heels of a long weekend with the family, after which I returned home without a spouse t...