I both love and hate that saying about only having 18 summers with your kids. 

You probably know the one. I saw it making its way around social media early this summer. It basically says that you only have 18 summers with your children, so you better make each summer count. I hate it because I think it only adds to the pressure and guilt moms often feel. It also leaves me with this heavy feeling in my stomach. It reminds me that this period of my life is temporary. Someday my kids will spend their summer days with their friends, not their mom. And then someday, they will be all grown up spending summers with their own kids. And these summer days, the ones full of baby pools and playgrounds and dirty toddler feet, will be a distant memory. 

And yet, I also love it because reminding myself of this slightly depressing fact has a way of putting things into perspective for me. There have been many days this summer where I have reminded myself, only 18 summers, and put off cleaning the house or doing the laundry in favor of a spontaneous picnic at the park or a trip to the zoo. 

Summer, at least in Northwest Ohio, is way too short. Winter seems to last half the year, but summer? Summer goes by in the blink of an eye. Now that summer is wrapping up, I’m trying to squeeze in everything we didn’t get a chance to do. I can’t help but think that I need more time.

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Today we went to one of those u-pick flower farms. I’ve been wanting to take the kids and I’m running out of time to do it. We traipsed up and down rows and rows of zinnias, sunflowers, daisies, snapdragons, and about 50 more varieties (according to their website). We took turns cutting fresh flowers and filled our mason jar until we couldn't fit even one more stem in the jar. We explored the “sunflower trail,” which consisted of all sorts of windy trails bordered by sunflowers of every size and shade of yellow you could imagine. My kids ran up and down the dirt trails with delight. I marveled at how fun it is to see the world through their eyes. My daughter stopped at every sunflower she saw and stared in amazement at blooms the size of her face. My son, after sitting on an old red tractor they had positioned on one of the trails, tells me later he wants to be a farmer. I snapped picture after picture of them, trying to commit the day to memory.

Walking up and down the rows of sunflowers, I can’t help but wonder where the summer went. It went fast, but we had so much fun. We swam until our fingers turned pruney. We went through boxes and boxes of popsicles and ice cream sandwiches and ate breakfast and dinner outside on the patio as a family. My son ended many days covered in sweat and sidewalk chalk. We bought a giant bounce house for the backyard and had picnics at the park. We took the kids to mini golf, the farmer’s market, and our town parade. Many days were spent cooling off at splash pads and hanging out at the zoo. We had a family beach vacation and a big garage sale. We went to the orchard and picked peaches. The kids played with the neighbors and we attended a neighborhood block party. We celebrated my baby’s first birthday. My son learned to ride his bike and we took more walks than I could possibly count. And soon we will fly out to California for our summer grand finale—a big family trip to Disneyland!

I feel simultaneously grateful for these precious days and still yearning for more. Maybe that sounds greedy. But for me, summer is never long enough. And in this season of raising little ones, it feels much the same. Spending time with them and making memories will always leave me wanting more.

That, and also really looking forward to bedtime.