It’s one of those days whenI feel the heavy mantle of poor parenting. Oh sure, you’re going to tell me that I’m wrong, that I did absolutely fine. But I felt that weight build upon me, layer upon layer: the sleeping K that B brought down from her room at 5:30pm (she’d been so exhausted from a day at the park that she’d fallen asleep in her room while waiting for dinner), the dinner that everyone was still waiting for an hour after expected, the (first) sunburned cheeks and shoulders of children I obviously didn’t properly protect.

But we did eat–at last and happily. The shoulders and cheeks were rubbed with aloe vera and blown on ever-so-gently. The kids are asleep, again. I feel the weight now and look forward to sleep, when it will slowly melt into the night. I will wake tomorrow morning and try again. They can’t all be perfect days, but it was good. Playing round-robin birthdays with wood chip cakes and helping them on the monkey bars and swinging them side by side–summer’s too much sun, too much fun. Or is there ever such a thing?


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