06.30

Definitions of summer are ever-changing. Today's: bare feet, bare little boy chests, bike helmets, sidewalk chalk, wet, grass-covered feet, remnants of ice cream on faces.

06.29

We've never lived here, but the place still feels like home.

06.28

Every day is a struggle not to make things all about me. I fail a lot. This day I failed more than usual.

06.27

He came up with an activity where we each told our favorite memory of cousin camping trips past. He's not going to be able to sleep because of the anticipation.

06.26

I wonder when the self-doubt ever lets up. I'm guessing never.

06.25

Home all day. Check one off the reading list.

06.24

Remnants of the party. It was exactly what he wanted. His friends, pool noodles, and pandemonium.

06.23

The day unfolded into a spontaneously perfect celebration.

06.22

I laid on my back and watched the leaves blow in the wind. I could see the spots in my eyes. I was on my front lawn again, a kid.

06.21

He was undefeated the whole day. Six straight wins.

06.20

A storm so big it darkened the entire morning. We turned on the lights and watched the city disappear.

06.19

The game wasn't a wash out. I was glad we all went.

06.18

Uncertainty occupies a lot of my brain. Is it too much?

06.17

I'll never actually accomplish everything I wrote on my list. But the things I do get done leave me feeling satisfied.

06.16

The anxiety nearly got the best of me. The field trip distracted me.

06.15

All of us were worried about them on Sunday. By Tuesday, we'd completely forgotten. On Wednesday, our forgotten worries were relieved.

06.14

He told me the names. I wrote them down. He included "grill" and "chair" when we ran out of family.

06.13

We covered ourselves with blankets as we sat in the grass and watched the boys play in the water.

06.12

We made it there intact. I considered that a huge success. And relief.

06.11

I take it as a good sign that they look forward to nights when mom is gone.