It’s the last day of summer vacation for all kids in JCrewviille.  Weeeeee!!!!

 

Next week I take back the house.

 

No more scrambling to feed the neighborhood kids. No more black feet and bloody scabs. No more exhausted crying spells from back-to-back sleepovers.

 

Yet no more lazy mornings sipping coffee with a bed-headed, boney-butted, pj-ed lump in my lap. No more snuggling to watch a movie with a daughter who smells like popcorn and is giddy from being up so late.

 

Like every year, it ends bittersweetly.

 

I wish I could have done more with them. We didn’t go strawberry picking or ride a roller coaster. We didn’t sleep in a tent in the backyard.  We didn’t plant a vegetable garden or make homemade ice cream.

 

Instead I made sandwiches and beds.  I distributed Band-Aids.  I squirted bug spray. I found missing flip flops. I hung up wet bathing suits, combed hair and slathered Neosporin.

 

Next year, I’ll try and be one of those moms who does more with them instead of for them. But like all moms, I guess I did my best.

 

And next week, the house is all mine.