Goodbye, Summer, It's Been Nice

The past couple of weeks have felt like Autumn. The weather's been cooler, rainier, windier, and less humid--and that was even before the hurricane. This weekend, however (although it wasn't particularly cold), chilled me to the bone. That's because, while the main story this weekend was undoubtedly Hurricane Irene, the unspoken story was Summer's End. It's eight o'clock and pitch black out there. And that bums me out.

I've always been ambivalent about the end of summer. Summer is absolutely, without a doubt, my favorite season. Except for the bugs, I love everything about summer--even the humidity. You will never hear me complaining about the weather on a 105-degree day. Yet all good things must come to an end. Back when I was a kid, Autumn meant finally seeing my friends again, new school clothes, and getting back into a routine. I've always liked a certain amount of structure in my life--and I'm also about 50% nerd and loved school--so rather than be sad about saying good-bye to summer, I would happily welcome Autumn's imminent arrival.

That changed when I graduated from college and got a job, because the end of summer no longer represented an exciting transition. Fall's arrival just meant doing the same job day in and day out but with less exposure to sunlight, crappier weather, and no one willing to pay for a new fall wardrobe. That was the only period of my life when I'd get majorly depressed at summer's end. Every August 15th, I'd start stressing out: I hadn't been to the beach enough, or taken enough trips, or visited all the outdoor bars and restaurants I'd wanted to try, or perfected my tan, or, or, or....

But now that I have kids who go back to school each Autumn, my feelings about summer's end have changed once again. Once again I'm not completely unhappy to be saying hello to fall. Sure, I will miss the hot-n-hazy-n-lazy days, wearing flip-flops, relaxing by the pool, trips to the beach, sweet-n-juicy peaches, and having nowhere special to be. But yet the idea of having a few precious hours to myself during the week is utterly intoxicating. My son will be in Kindergarten and my daughter will be in preschool three mornings a week. That only comes to about eight hours of Me Time, but that will surely feel like a lot after the ZERO hours I've had this summer. I'm not complaining--I chose not to sign both my kids up for camp and I don't regret it--but it's been exhausting.

And it's not just me who needs Autumn to arrive. The kids are starting to get at each other's throats. They  are normally about as lovey-dovey as a brother and sister can be, but I've noticed more pushing and "Get away from me!"'s lately. They need space.

Sure, this week is going to be gorgeous--warm and sunny, no rain in sight--but that doesn't change anything. Fall is right around the corner...all the more reason to relish and savor this last week of freedom and unstructured days. I plan on enjoying it.

Itsy, Bitsy, Teeny, Weeny Bikini

Summer is here once again, which is awesome. I'm a big fan of summertime. Here in our town of Mt. Pleasant, we are lucky to have the greatest municipal pool I've ever seen. It has a million features, including a 40-foot, tunneled, corkscrew water slide. All for less than $500 per family.

As you can imagine, we are at the pool as often as possible, which means running into the same families day after day. This can be great when the moms are interesting and the kids well-behaved. But when the kids are wild and the mom weird, well, it can be sucky.

There is this woman: We don't see her much during the school-year (thankfully we're in different school districts), but every time we're at the pool, we run into her and her brood. Because my children are close in age to two of hers (she has three kids and is pregnant with #4), we get to talking as moms do. She's perfectly nice, but let's just say that our politics and philosophies could not be more different, and for that reason she annoys me.

Mind you, it's not like we actually talk about politics or philosophy, but you can learn a lot about a person just by discussing kids and hobbies. I've written about this woman before: Once she made a crack about how she'd better start using sunscreen or else she'd "look 40" in no time (not realizing I was 41); another time, she offended me with the Pro-life bumper stickers on her mini-van.

Since our paths have started crossing again, I've been a bit wary of her. And sure enough, the other day Ms. Clueless did it again. We were sitting on the edge of the kiddie pool watching our kids and chatting. Her four-year-old daughter had on the cutest bathing suit: pink and green, flamingo-patterned, skirt bottom, short-sleeved top, matching headband. I complimented the mom on the suit, and she said, "Yeah, I think it's so cute but I couldn't get her to wear it at first. Then I was like, 'I paid $20 bucks for it, you're wearing it!' I don't know, I'm just not into bikinis for little girls." She crinkled up her nose. "There's no need to show that much skin when they're so young."

Not ten feet away, my three-year-old daughter was splashing around in her bikini. I wanted to smack the b*#ch.

Looking adorbs in her bikini

I happen to think bikinis on little girls are adorable. And they are also practical when you are trying to potty train your kid--getting a wet one-piece off an about-to-bust toddler is challenging, to say the least. My daughter has about five swimsuits, yet she almost always chooses the bikini, even though it's from last year and barely fits anymore.

I'm not about to argue with her about which swimsuit to wear. I mean, what is the BFD if your toddler wears a bikini? In Europe the little girls splash around topless, and no one cares. Why must Americans--especially those who are part of the religious right--be so uptight about this stuff?

They think they're protecting their kids but what they're really doing is giving them complexes. What's Ms. Clueless going to do when her precious little girl turns sixteen and starts rebelling against all the Puritanical dogma with micro-minis and piercings?

That I would like to see.