The Chronicles of Ingham: Hot Town

August typically drags for me. By now, I’ve pretty much had enough of all the summer things that I dream about from December 26^th until April-ish. When we don’t have preschool and story-time and choir and other things to keep us busy, I have to think of things for us to do which are entertaining (or at least distracting) and cheap. (Away-from-home morning activities are at the top of the list of things that I need in order to maintain some sort of maternal Zen. If we’re not out of the house by 9, my desperation to flee the four walls starts manifesting as extreme impatience with normal levels of Preschool-Putz. Sometimes I explode and have to apologize later; just the other day Ellen and I had the following conversation over PB&Js: Me: Ellen, I’m sorry that I yelled this morning. I was very angry, but that wasn’t a good way to show it. Ellen: It’s okay Mom. We can still be friends.) Thinking of something to do every day is drudgery at this point. I recycle things from June and July, and those things were lame the first time around. I’m bored and ready for my life to resume. Plus, there’s still at least four more weeks until State Fair cheese curds.

So, I tried to get away. I took a solo getaway while Dave was hiking in Yellowstone. But I was lonely and sad, and coming home and getting a giant Cecilia hug (she puts her little head on my shoulder, wraps her arms around me, and doesn’t let go for a long time) was the best part.

Now I’m trying to focus on the little moments of good stuff until September rolls around to deliver me. Here are a few that I’ve captured.