A good afternoon

My sister called and asked if I had had a good afternoon with my family. The only honest response I could come up with was, "We tried. We really did try to have a good one." After a Saturday spent with our family running (some of us literally) in opposite directions, Sunday afternoon had been deemed 'family time'. We would come home from church, eat lunch and then proceed to Deming Park in Terre Haute followed by ice cream. This plan sounds so noble, so reasonable in writing.

Upon arrival, there was the reality that it was significantly warmer and sunnier in Terre Haute this afternoon than it was in fair Charleston. They loped through the park, Brenna sat in a swing; at one point we sat in the shade and I realized that I am just over summer. Over the past few months, I have taken my children swimming, visited parks, enjoyed bike rides and have played board games. I am now feeling old and I am tired of parenting. As I stood by the slide, mystified that my children weren't frolicking through the park, I realized I didn't really want to stand in the hot sun either. After 15 minutes of park time, we decided we had fulfilled the park quota and could move on to Baskin Robbins.

Baskin Robbins is much like a forbidden bowl of Fruity Pebbles-- it brings back all that was best in my childhood. The ice cream was fabulous. The ride home, however, quickly deteriorated. Because this afternoon was about quality time as a family with no screens, because it was about enjoying each other's company and watching the trees and hills roll by outside the van window, I had not allowed any screens on our outing. Full of bravado, a few hours earlier it was easy to take a firm stance, "We're going retro! You're going to enjoy an afternoon like I did in the early 80's. You'll look out the window for entertainment and talk to each other."

Personal space was encroached. Seatbelts did not remain in the proper position. Ear wax was waved on small fingers as a true threat. Strange smells came from the back seat. By the time we reached the Charleston city limits Greg had turned off the radio and asked that the children stop speaking. We finished the ride in zen-like silence. I began to remember what long rides in the Buick had been like when I was small and realized that by the time I was the same age as my kiddos, my brother and sister had moved out. That's why I had nostalgia over a quiet backseat with cornfield rows passing by my window.

Within 15 minutes of arriving home, we sent the children outside to play and Greg and I dozed off on the couch. After that nap I felt like a new woman and parented the remaining evening hours like a champ. Granted, two of them were gone to youth group for a few hours, but I digress.

I saw a reminder on social media today that my remaining Saturdays with my crew are limited. I realize that they are. I just find that when I stop trying so hard, we enjoy the weekends so much more. There can be an internal pressure to schedule fun for them, make every moment count, squeeze each last great experience we can out of the days we have. I think I squeezed too hard today and wound up forcing an outing on my children that none of us were truly up for. Note to self, only local parks for the remainder of fall.