Oasis

We are gearing up this week for our trip to the Outer Banks, something that in my mind has been synonymous with the close of summer. When we get back, we'll have just two weeks until school begins and then six more weeks until this baby is due.

Whew.

This has been a really nice summer. I woke up this morning (note that I "woke up" not that I "was woken up," a little difference in verb tense that makes a gigantic difference in reality) around 9am and the only ones awake were Katie and Beth, who were both contentedly watching tv in the basement. By 10am everyone was awake and moving, and by 10:30 breakfast had been served to everyone and the dishes cleaned up. It is now 11:30, and I have spent that solid hour (a whole hour!) just puttering around, left to my own devices. When I am done here, we will throw on bathing suits and hang out by the pool for a few hours. Lunch will probably just be some yogurt and fruit served on the porch, and after I've played all our usual games I am hoping that Lucy will allow me to spend some time working on a story I've been writing for fun. She will most likely give me no trouble.

This will all be over in two weeks; we will be getting up much earlier, we will have much less leisure time, we will be a little more stressed. That's fine, really. A huge part of what has made this summer so heavenly is the fact that it has been such a rare treat. Everybody sleeps through the night, nobody needs naps, there are no diapers to change, no babies to feed, everyone can dress themselves (mostly) and find their own games to play. I have actually been getting a full night's sleep every single night. It has literally been over a decade since I could say that. I'm going to repeat this, because it makes me feel good to acknowledge it: it has been over a decade since I have been able to get a full night's sleep consistently.

I have really enjoyed it.

I feel, too, like we really needed this sweet, simple summer filled with slow mornings and lazy afternoons. In two weeks, the pace is about to quicken quite a bit. In eight weeks, all hell is going to break loose. That might seem like a nasty way to describe the advent of a new baby, but let's be honest: it's true. I will not be sleeping, something that I can now see - now that I am not perpetually exhausted - affects me profoundly. We will be juggling the schedules of a newborn, a highly opinionated 3 year old, three elementary school students, and a brand new middle-schooler. Chris' work schedule is more hectic than ever before and is not likely to calm down in the next six months. Katie is looking into joining a few clubs next year, and Beth, Claire and Abbie are all starting Girl Scouts. We are going to be busy. Really busy.

But it's okay. This summer has served as a glorious reminder that things can eventually ease up. That even life with a houseful of young children can offer up periods of peace and tranquility. This has been a summer to catch up on things: disorganized corners, sleep, our breath. Maybe it's the calm before the storm, but it is also a reminder that there is a calm after the storm as well.

So right now I am going to finish my coffee and enjoy the quiet, empty living room without guilt. This is not permanent. I just need to remember, when the baby has been up all night and someone needs cupcakes for a class party and someone else needs help with homework, all before someone else needs to be picked up from someplace inconvenient, that it, too, will not be permanent. These seasons are going to ebb and flow, just like the ocean we are about to visit, and the key is going to be finding the ways to best ride out each phase.

I am grateful for the chance to still my breathing, because I see the next wave coming and I am ready to catch it.