The Dog Days…
I hate that feeling when life starts creeping up on me too fast. And then all of a sudden I turn around and there’s August staring me straight in the face and I think, how the heck did you get in here? Isn’t it still last fall and I’m on glorious maternity leave with my little baby, hibernating in my house with my new family and loving every second of it?
Nope. It’s not last fall anymore. Sophia’s on the verge of becoming a toddler (OK, maybe turning one doesn’t make her a toddler, but geez! She sure looks like one already.) and here it is almost next fall. And can I just get an Amen about that? Have I mentioned yet how strongly I dislike the month of August and all it’s sweaty hot nastiness? I was so pregnant this time last year, and I still find myself cursing August under my breath from time to time for the thoughtful pregnancy gift of cankles (Are they calves? Are they ankles?)
And then there’s the fact that I adore fall with all its wonderful crispness and warm colors and cool breezes. And that smell. That beautiful autumn night smell! I even like the Santa Ana winds that blow here in Southern California, even though they aren’t cool breezes at all, because they’re decidedly fall, which means they’re decidedly NOT summer.
It’s not that I hate summer. It’s a great season with fun and sun and blah blah blah. But once you’re out of college, summer loses a little bit of its appeal. It’s hot, yes. And you don’t have to wear as many layers. And when you get a summer break to prance around the beaches and amusement parks of this great state of ours, well then summer rules. But once you’re stuck inside an office all day, summer just becomes those unbearably hot months between the cool sweetness of spring and the cool crispness of fall.
Life’s been crazy this week, and this rant about summer (gotta have something to blame it on) is all I could muster at this point.
I think it’s just me missing my vacation schedule, which, in fact, really was a lack of schedule. So in my state of missing Hawaii, I took Sophia to the beach with Grandma this weekend to try to capture some of the memory of a week on an island beach. She met a little friend (an 18-month-old who was downing a can of Pepsi — seriously? Also, are they not exactly the same size?) and they played a bit while I tried to drown out the traffic of the street immediately behind us.
But reality set in. I’m home. It’s August. Is there any relief?
I was just thinking the exact same thing this morning while driving into work. I can’t believe it’s August and last year at this time I was sooo hating summer because I was prego (my daughter will be one in October). Time just flies by so fast.