I’ve made a decision: this summer is too good to end. Too full of funny. Too full of yummy. Too full of love and pool water. I ended last summer wishing I could stop time and hold the kids right where they were, but that was short-sighted. NOW I’m stopping the clock. Right here. BEFORE puberty, but AFTER the ridiculousness of childhood has us in its grips.

We’ve had to make some adjustments to meet in the middle. Avery is “over” what she calls “human games”. It took me a couple of days to realize she meant make-pretend. Kelly is deep into “human games”, and Sara? Kind of in the middle. This caused great consternation in our village until Sara dedicated her entire evenings to playing hours upon hours of Calico Critters, Stuffed Animal Land Weddings, and Office with Kelly. If Kelly is able to spend a few hours a day lost in her imaginary world, she is far more congenial about playing Monopoly for the 1000x time. She kicked the board over a few times before we found the balance, but we got there eventually.

I’ve learned to meet everyone in the middle too. No more elaborately prepared lunches. We’re still eating primarily whole foods, and I still don’t cook things which come frozen in boxes, but BLTs with Avocados, Grilled Cheese we can dip in Tomato Soup, and (everyone’s favorite) Baked Potato Bars are the Usual Suspects. We still eat on a tablecloth in the dining room, and every fall, that first lunch I eat alone without my Three Musketeers, I won’t lie: I weep. Our lunchtime conversations are the highlight of my day.

The conversations have changed significantly over the years. We began these lunches with Kelly just out of a highchair, when anything short of a PB&J was thrown to the floor. Now, they know their roles in “Troisine” like well-coded robots. I yell out “Isabine! Avine! Opaline! SERVICE!” in my French accent, and they line up, scurry about, and lunch is served in high style in mere moments.

We spend our lunches giggling over Avery’s parents’ insistence that she read “My Changing Body”, followed by my empty threats to talk about puberty (which I’d NEVER do over soup…that’s just unappetizing). We listen to Avery’s retelling of the latest Sci-Fi flick she’s watched. I can now summarize in great detail “Octoshark”, “Lavalantula” (Tarantulas which can spit LAVA….DUDE….the DRAMA), and “Robo-Croc”. They started the summer unable to pick a single morning cartoon upon which they could agree, and now, I don’t hear a peep as they trade turns at “A.N.T. Farm” and “Mighty Med”. In June, I wondered if we’d ever find a happy medium, but with patience and some good cherry cobbler, it came.

The Board where the daily magic is mapped out! And where I send the girls to read bible verses when the argue.

I think our experience of caring for Papa Bump has matured them a bit, and given them some much-needed perspective. As we deliver food to friends in Hospice, and make our weekly treks to my Grandfather’s house, they’ve come to realize: not everyone is experiencing the sweetness of summer as we are. Not everyone can spend lazy afternoons at the pool, avoiding a passing glance at the school calendar. In all seriousness, I don’t even know WHAT day we go back. I know the week, but I refuse to mark the actual day. STOP. Don’t tell me. I’m not ready for that level of detail.

And our tasks have had their price: There have been days the girls are just plum worn out. They don’t want to spend another afternoon begging Kelly to jump off the diving board (we’re batting a massive ZERO thus far). They don’t want to read “Pay It Forward” (we WILL finish before summer ends…WE WILL). They don’t want to work on their pajama pants, fold beach towels, or make yet another trip to the grocery. Some days, I don’t want to either. We’ve spent some days just surviving together, and there have been some hilarious spats. One day I found all 3 of them sitting in a row on the couch and crying. The story was told that as they wallowed in exhaustion, trying to find something to do, Sara decided to build yet another memorial to Max. Max died years ago, and I have had to limit the number of memorials at any given time allowed in or around the house. We have 4 cats. We don’t need this house to be a shrine to Max (although the limit is 3, because I loved that cat to pieces). 2 young ladies were quite through with helping Sara build dead cat memorials, and before anyone could say “Pringle bit my Mom’s knee”, ugly comments about each others’ deceased pets were being lobbed about like volleyballs. Hence, 3 girls gnashing teeth on my couch, and me falling into fits of laughter, knowing that by next summer, we’ll be calling this “PMS”.

I want to savor their last moments of absolute childhood. Even Avery has thrown in the towel and started playing human games again. She invented a game they are calling “Emperor Baby”, which as far as I can tell, involves Avery being both an Emperor and a Baby, demanding things from her subjects. She who answers the call with the best effort gets to become the Emperor Baby. How this game is even remotely fun, I don’t know, but then again, I’ve never played. If I did, I’m sure I’d be the BEST Emperor Baby EVER. My favorite of their inventive play is a game they call “Jackie Topaz”. They are lost children, searching all over the world for their Mother, who is named? That’s right…Jackie Topaz. I’m so thrilled at this name, I’ve started referring to myself as Jackie Topaz around the house. It has a nice ring to it. However silly this game may sound, it was created to stop Kelly’s nightmares that she can’t find me. It has worked like a charm. Life is funny.

I write this every.single.year, but Indiana summers are so sweet because they are so short. Last week we took a night tour of the Ecolab at Marian University, and listening to bull frogs in the dark with bats flying overhead, I felt my soul whisper, “Stay summer. Just this once…stay.” Let the girls stay 10, 9, & 8 for just a little while longer. The Summer in the Middle is where we belong.

But I doubt summer could hear me over the crickets and the rustling of the cattails, as yet another thunderstorm rolled in. Do tell me, how is your summer? I pray it has been full of lazy wonderment and pie? Godspeed my friends. As our summers roll to the finish line…Godspeed.