I hate summer and it has nothing to do with the 105 degree heat. I hate summer because it strips us of all routine. It leaves my kids bored and listless. I hated summer as a kid and now I hate it even more as a mom.

Trying to figure out what to do with Boy. He’s bored bored bored at the babysitter’s and I can’t blame him. There’s no one there his age to play with. There’s nothing to do but play video games, which he does at home ad naseum.

I feel so much pressure from his boredom. I am not there to diffuse it by taking him to the pool, the way my mom took me and my friends to the pool. I’m not there for a trip to the library or the movies. I can’t go pick up his friends for a play date.

Because I’m here, bored at work.

Love is patient, love is kind. Love does not obsessively text message. It does not compare you to old girlfriends. Nor does it practice emotional blackmail.

Most teenage boys suck at love. It’s a lot harder than baseball or soccer. There are real feelings at stake, and sometimes boys forget that. Sometimes they can’t help it because their hormones are screaming inside them so loudly they can’t hear anything else. Sometimes they just like to put themselves first. Some boys grow out of selfishness and some do not.

The important thing to remember is that you know what love is. Because girlfriend, you are loved by lots of people.

When you find that right someone, he will love you the way your people do. His love will feel warm and familiar, like your favorite t-shirt fresh out of the dryer. His love will lift you up and make you smile the way your friends do. It will comfort you and sustain you the way your parents do.

The hardest thing is to be patient for this Love. Sometimes it takes a long long time to find it. Sometimes it doesn’t. Like everything else, only God knows the timing. You have to have faith and hope that it will come. And while you’re waiting for Love with a capital L to come along, have fun. Goof off. Be free.

Keep your standards and your chin high, beautiful one.

Back from vacation and relieved to see we look happy in the photos we took. Because while we were there I wasn’t too sure. All that togetherness in the car and the hotel room felt like an endurance test, or a reality TV show. “A family of four trapped in a confined space for 72 hours. See who cracks first. Will it be Mom? Look at her twitchy eye. She’s already on the edge…”

We’re not used to being within touching distance of each other for hours on end. Some of us do not touch gently. Some of us hit and slap. Some of us are not very civilized. It makes the ones of us who are supposed to be civilized become uncivilized in the time it takes to scream “STOP IT!” four times fast.

When we pulled into the driveway of our house today, Boy said, “I love this place.” I do too. It has more than one room.

Then: Orange VW convertible with pack of clove cigarettes hidden in the glove compartment
Now: Green family sedan with crushed goldfish crackers mixed with sand on the floorboards

Then: Hawaiian Tropic Suntan Oil, smells like coconuts
Now: Baby sunblock SPF 50, smells like ointment

Then: Red and white striped bikini
Now: Navy blue one-piece from JCPenny’s Frumpy Mama department

Then: Waiting in the sand for wayward boyfriend to get back from the liquor store
Now: Waiting in the sand for dependable husband to carry everything from the car, pack-mule style

Then: Laying out for hours hoping to be watched
Now: Standing at water’s edge with hands on hips for hours, watching