July was insane. Just insane. There was a road trip out west and camogie and serve week and computer camp and days without end where we stayed in pajamas for 24 hours straight (and then some). Summer always knocks me on my rear, and this one appears to be no exception. So before we hop on a plane, leave the kiddos behind with some family, do some more work and prepare for the next school year to start in 29 days (what? I'm not counting!), here's what I'm into:

BOOKS

Prodigal Summer, by Barbara Kingsolver :: This is the first giant novel I've tackled in a long time and I'm nearly done. Oh, I really like this one, like experiencing the rhythms of nature through the eyes of the Appalachian female and how we're more animal than we realize.

Coming up...

I've checked out The Astronaut Wives Club and Painted Ladies for our trip to Germany next week. And the husband is requesting I attempt to read Tangible Kingdom again. Actually, I've started reading it multiple times, attended the conferences, bought the t-shirt and I'm all-in, I'm just lousy at reading non-fiction, particularly church/work non-fiction. Stay tuned.

TV

We are almost done with Doctor Who! Just three more episodes and we'll be all caught up for the 50th anniversary. Have to tell you, though, not really loving it right now. It's like a first love that you're head over heels for and then you realise he's not funny all the time, and he yells at his sister, and maybe you got too serious too fast... I may be taking this all too seriously.

Other things on the telly/netflix... Portlandia (Season 3), The Americans (it's like Alias, but with Cosby sweaters, 80s music, and a super-mean Felicity), and New Girl (finally watched season finale, and... meh).

MOVIES

Silver Linings Playbook :: Finally got a chance to sit Matt down and force-feed this to him. Like a good man, he loved it just as much as I told him he should.

Saving Private Ryan :: I forgot how every single male actor in Hollywood was in this movie. I also forgot how melodramatic the soundtrack was. And how much I love Tom Hanks.

American Gangster :: Love this movie. Denzel is scary and Russell is the ultimate flawed hero.

MUSIC

On repeat... The Swell Season, Mumford & Sons, Waterdeep Worship.

VIDEO

This video (and article) of The Civil Wars made me feel all sad. Beautiful, haunting, sad.



THINGS I LOVE

Roadtrips
Sunsets over the ocean
Rare thunderstorms
Family coming to visit
Making new friends
Reading in an actual book made of paper
Collecting my happy kids after a day of camp
The "unrelenting sun"
Rain returning
Walks in the evening with our crew
Haircuts
Kiddos stargazing and a crackling fire

ON THE BLOG
We are all so beautiful (most-read)
Roundabout Russian Roulette (my fave)

So how about you? What were you into this month?

Note: links include amazon affiliates. if you click over and purchase, i may get a nickel or two. eventually. :)

Brought to you by the link-up at Hopeful Leigh

Five Friday Favourites

1) 32 birthday gift ideas for girls who don't like princesses :: I remember, before she was born, praying for our sweet little girl and asking God to make her however He wanted her. I prayed she would feel free to be or do or go wherever, that she would never feel hemmed in by her gender or her age or her circumstance. I want her to be fierce, God, I prayed. Fierce and wild and strong. And He said, Sure thing, Karen. So that's how we got Ella. I love this list of birthday ideas for non-girly girls, which will help immensely when her 7th (7?!) birthday rolls around in October. Thanks, Rookie Moms!

2) Mornings with my boys :: Matt's been working an actual normal schedule this week, and with Ella @ Camogie Camp, just me and the boys have been chillin'. These guys... they play hard and fight hard, and Jack is so patient with Ash, and Ash is so in love with Jack. "My brother!" they both cry, frequently, in good times and bad. Love them.



3) Date nights in the garden :: You know how people say, "You should do regular (weekly, bi-weekly, monthly, whatever) date nights. Married people need date nights!"? Well, they're right - we do need date nights. But the euros required for actual date nights are few and far between. So we do date nights with Doctor Who on the couch. Or we do date nights in the twilight of the back garden. This week we sat back there, after the kids were in bed and the daylight waning, and we listed our missed things, well-loved things from back home. Top of the list: the people (family, friends, Crossroads, community group), then places (River Market, our park in the city, the Grand Balcony), then food (ohhh, Margaritas, how I need you!). It was bittersweet, but good to remember. And truly, we have traded quite nicely. Date nights in the garden... what will we do in winter?

4) What Missional Communities Do :: An acquaintance on Facebook shared this, and it's totally our jam:

What Missional Communities do:
You’ll use the old rubble of past lives to build anew,
rebuild the foundations from out of your past.
You’ll be known as those who can fix anything,
restore old ruins, rebuild and renovate,
make the community livable again. 
Isaiah 58:12 {The Message}

5) #IrishHeatwave :: Want a dose of happy? Search the instagram hashtag #irishheatwave. We may not have any air conditioning, nary an outdoor swimming pool or splashpad, but we've got beaches and oceans and loads of shiny happy people frolicking in this unbelievable weather. Thanks, God, for your good common grace.

***

Ok, that's my list. What's yours? 

Camogie Camp, a restropective

DAY 1
I watch for her, sweaty children in masks making their way from the clubhouse. Her pink backpack precedes her and I wait, anxious: Did she make it ok? Sid she stay dry? Did she love it? As she turns, her frown confirms my worst fears. Slowly, she makes her way towards me, her arm juts out, middle finger upturned in my face. Oh no! I think, Already? She's turned on us already? It takes a moment for the flesh-coloured bandaid to register. "I got hit," she says. That's a relief!

DAY 2
Fumble. She goes missing for a few minutes in the locker room whilst I wait outside, camera in hand, to take a picture of her with helmet and hurl and smile on her face. I find her crying on the bench inside, knee banged up, all determination and joy gone. We cuddle for awhile, get her helmet fitted, take a couple of very sad photos, then the smile returns. This picture is for Papa, I say.

DAY 3
The boys and I arrive early to catch a glimpse of our little camogie darling. It is hot as all get-out and it's hard to find her in a sea of small people with caged helmets and green uniforms. Finally we spot her and watch her stand there, walk aimlessly for a bit, and then break out in a dance when her team scores. "Did you see me make a point?!" she asks. "I saw your team get a point, " I say, afraid I'd just burst her bubble. "Oh yeah, that's what I mean!" Joy undeterred. She is pink as a grapefruit.

DAY 4
"I scored 100... no... 1000!" ...Questionable.

DAY 5
We are now both adept enough to get her helmet securely on, and we take action shots for the family back home. I promise to arrive early to catch a few minutes of her last match. But... I get that sinking feeling all parents get when they drive into a parking lot only to see it completely full, knowing that you must've missed something. Sure enough, it's the award ceremony. I spot her in the middle of the huddle, all shiny and exhausted. And when she finds me, I get two big thumbs up. She is wearing green, white and orange. Her new colours, and one shiny medal.

***

So this is what we did this week... plus drama workshop, plus grocery runs, plus temper tantrums in car parks, plus sun sun sun. What did your week look like?

Wordless Wednesday (out west)

No fear for cold

For someone who says she hates summer, I am certainly head over heels for it today.

For today, all day, it is hot enough to languish in the sun. To wear shorts and hang load after load of laundry. To lay out a blanket and call it a picnic.

Asher comes in, in the early morning, declaring he's a "naked baby" (again; this is fairly common), and we don't mind. Because it's hot. He's three weeks toilet trained, now, so he and his underwear are good friends. The little nautical striped briefs go everywhere. He uses them as a holster. As a tool belt. As a power ranger thingy-whatever-that-is. Legos stick out from the sides and a plastic blue toy he uses as a phone. He is a naked baby, all day, no fear for cold.

Last summer, when the heat was so bad, bearing down on us like hell in humidity, there was no escape. No yard/garden to run willy-nilly in. Nowhere to run but up to the north woods. We were encased, pent up like animals in heat, so exhausted from sun we dare not open a curtain.

But this year, we fling the windows wide, airing out a long winter. We spend all day outside (OK, some of the day outside; there was still Wii-playing and video-watching). We get out the hose and let the kids have a run through it; her clothes dripping wet, she drops them on the spot and up on the line they go. We picnic in the back garden, hot dogs spilling into grass. 

I know too soon this will be over, and last week will return next week, when mist came in through the windows and I sat in this very chair contemplating my collection of scarfs instead of sweating under the sun. Today I guzzle cold water for I know next week I'll be nursing hot tea. Probably. Maybe.

Or it could stay like this forever.

This week, the country feels magical. Everyone is giggly; I can hear it on the road and from the houses. Grown adults eat popsicles in the street. The radio announcers thank their American guests, sure this weather can only come from the New World. We chat over the fence to our neighbours, the woman at the till remarks at the luck.

So sunny, so warm, so much summer for such an island as Ireland.

***

Linking up with Heather of the EO and Just Write.

Powdered creamer communion

I wake up in a bed without children, for the first time in ages. It's so unfamiliar to me I can't even place where I am, which bed I woke up in, what country we live in. The sun is up, but that's meaningless. What feels like 10am could be 5am, as the littlest ones know full well. Today it is 8am and the house is still asleep.

Two years ago this time we awoke to a Carolina beach. The parents asked for liquid coffee creamer, but all I could find in the extremely busy and equally limited town grocer was the powder stuff. I was given a slight disapproving eye, but we all used it anyway. Powder our coffee in the morning, sit on the balcony, and watch the hazy sun rise over the Atlantic. It was beautiful, and tasty, and all we had was time. No phones, no appointments, no clocks. Just time.

It's a minor injustice that I can't find liquid creamer anywhere on our current stretch of island. Yes, it speaks to our coffee addiction that milk just doesn't cut it and making the homemade Pinterest creamer wears one out eventually. I told him to leave and not come back without the powder stuff. I just need something, I said.

I'm done with milk in my coffee, it offers no memories.

Two-heaping teaspoons and I remember North Carolina. The powder on the rim of the mug. The way we woke before the children, how they waddled in all blurry. The smell of the ocean and the silence of happily exhausted humans, sitting side by side. We barely talk, breathing in together. Communion.

I remember you this morning, my family. Asher as a baby. Ella in a nightgown. Jack reading his book on whales. Walking on sand with my dad. Drinks with my sisters. Cousins holding hands.

My mug is filled with memories. My morning free from time.

I remember you.

The lazy mom's guide to summer

Ok, I've got 10 days to prepare myself mentally, emotionally and physically for my kiddos to be home 24/7. I love spending time with my kids, but both they and I need space. Frequent space. So we like to keep summer low-key, low-maintenance, and low-energy. Some people call this lazy. Fair enough. I, for one, will choose to embrace the laziness of summer and lean into my lazy giftings.



1) Reading. Reading isn't exactly lazy, but round these parts it is. We lounge around in our pjs, spreading out all the reading material and colouring books. I also institute a mandatory quiet time wherein each child must stay in his or her own room for one hour. With a book (or audio book). Whether they read it or not is their choice, but it's gotta be screen free and away from me and each other. Check out your local library for kids' reading programs. Our library has one, but the late fees are killer. Which brings me to...

2) Get online and renew, order, check out, shop, whatever. If you've got books and don't want to drag a potty training three-year-old across town to the library, renew your books/movies online and reserve new ones. Your girl needs a new swimsuit? Check amazon or other online shops. The eldest is forgetting his maths? Give him your old slow laptop and introduce him to online kids math games (check your school's website for recommended links). Watch videos on youtube or netflix, have your kids play games and watch short clips on pbskids.org or other some such educationally fun site. Just because you're home-bound doesn't mean you are without options. You just have more, comfy, pajama-friendly options.

3) One outing a week. Any more than this and you risk endangering yourself and innocent bystanders. Pick something close enough so they won't fall asleep in the car, but far away enough that you can justify driving through McDonald's for milkshakes on your way home. Don't put pressure on yourself to come up with loads of outdoor activities or daytrips. Just try to think up one place a week that won't break you or the bank. Even if it's just across the street to the green (which is where we'll be).

4) Water. Buckets, bowls, cups of water. Doesn't matter. Just send them in the back yard with a container, show them the water and let them go to town. For added fun, give them a few towels to lay down on, dry off with, whip at siblings. If you pay for water, keep track of the time or use a sprinkler or sprayer to keep it under control. My friend Nicole made a great homemade sprinkler last summer using old 2-litre bottles. If you're crafty and non-lazy, you could help your kids create them. If you're like me, make Dad do it.

5) Forts. Never underestimate a good fort. If keeping it indoors (like we had to do last year), set up shop in the living room, bring in loads of chairs, blankets and pillows, turn on a book on cd (we prefer the Chronicles of Narnia radio theatre). If you've got outdoor space (like we do this year, praise God!), use lawn furniture, towels and old sheets. Things will get dirty and fights will eventually break out, but this can help your kiddos work together while you "work on pinterest" or "write" or "inculturate by watching back to back to back episodes of Doctor Who." Whatever.

6) Chore charts. My kids don't make much of an allowance, but in the summer I always try to up the ante. They get more chores, but they also get more rewards. Ranging from big (sweep the floors, which in our house is a major task) to little (brushing teeth), I'm trying to help them become responsible and independent. Also, I have my kids fill out their own chore charts. This can take a handful of minutes to several hours, depending on the child. Mine get a kick out of coming up with their own tasks, and I enjoy seeing what they think is valuable work. Just make sure you save your pocket change. You're gonna need it.

Finally...



7) Don't clean. Just don't. I mean, yes, if there's a major spill on the floor, take care of that. And I'm assuming you like to eat on clean dishes. Do laundry when you run out and hang it to dry (better for the environment and a great excuse for only doing one load a day!). Forego dusting, vaccuum only when necessary and leave the kids' stuff where they left it. Toys and junk and books will inevitably cover your floors and table tops, but stressing about reorganizing everything every night will just make you the Hyperventilating Mom with Crazy Eyes (trademark pending) when the kid-tornado comes back around in the morning.

So there you go: seven tips to making yourself the lazy summer mom you've always dreamed you could be. Results may vary, screen time may increase, tears will be shed. But come September, everyone will be well-rested and ready to get back to school's structure. And most importantly, everyone will have survived. Which, really, is my overarching goal of any parenting adventure...

Survival.

What are your plans this summer? Are you go-go-go? Are you do you feel kinda lazy? No judgment.

The naive optimism of summer "holidays"

Ok, "summer" break. We've got a bit of a discrepancy.

My calendar says you are blissfully 2 weeks away. I have counted on your fashionably late arrival, chuckling on the inside as my friends welcome their wee children home in the middle of May. I, too, love my children and look with naive optimism to the lazy, long days of summer, wherein bedtime routines are not as frantic, early morning brushing of teeth not as important. 

But this is not the point.

The point is, you are coming between us, my children and I. Because they think - told by their classmates and confirmed by exhausted teachers - you arrive Friday next. As in one week. As in seven days. Nay, four-and-a-half days (not counting the weekend, obvs) as the twelve noon bell rings the summer in. This is not what my calendar says, not what the woefully outdated school website says, not what my mother-heart says. And the eldest and I are at an empasse.

So I say I'll ring in to the school, confirm it with the nice secretary who knows me by name, or at least by sight. The American Mom, belonging to one American Jack(son). I'm sure she'll tell me the truth, so kind as she gently lets me down. But I'm afraid and I'd rather just wait and see. I'm really very good at purposefully living in ignorance.

The thing is, summer, the flipside of the relaxed bedtimes and fluid schedules is one kid asking for food all day long. Or the ice cream truck coming through at 3:56 every afternoon. Or Netflix streaming one terribly awful Power Rangers episode after another. Or the sun coming up at 4am, bringing little children to my bed before the most punctual bird ever nabs that first worm.

The school year gives us such a nice little rhythm, a schedule to abide by. It makes sure we're out the door by 8:40am. It keeps the children reading and gives Asher some independence. For a family that is so haphazard, we need those bits of routine. They make us feel like everyday we accomplish one more thing, keeping us sane and moving forward. 

I do love you, summer, really I do. I do think we may manage a day trip or two, the occasional walk to the park, the forts and the sea. I know we'll survive, like we do every summer. And I know it could be worse, the temps could be hellish and humid like last year, it could be Kansas in July.

But... but... I was counting on that extra week of solitude, of routine, of my own independence... even if heavily involved in the one-on-one game of potty training, with a heavy dose of laundry on the side. With all the children home, all day, every day... I may never do laundry again.

Oh, look at that! I found a silver lining. We'll just make it the Summer of No Laundry and call it even.

CODA: Verdict is two more weeks! That was a close one.

I can't be the only one with a summer holidays aversion. How do you cope with the loooooong days of summer?

The baptism :: 31 days of messy parenting {day 2}

And this is how it happened.



No fanfare. No video cameras. No real cameras, even. Only a few camera phones in our midst, and only one photo.

But there was food. And friends. People who have loved him and taught him, want to know about his day and share their food and drink with him. His little friends, too: four boys he loves, wanting to be their leader.

It was long in coming, but quickly decided. He'd been thinking about it, weighing it. His need to fly under the radar - to not get too noticed - kept him from walking up, from saying yes, from wading into muddy lakes with near strangers. But still, always, he kept his heart and mind open to it. And when it was time, it was time.

Our friends - a dear new sister walking with us these last two years here - giving testimony and laying down their heads in cool water. He came up to us both and said, "I'm ready now," and just like that: baptized.

I admit I felt my heart in my throat. My first response: "Not right now, honey." This was not my plan, not how I envisioned it, not what I expected. But it was His plan, and I had to let go. 

I had to let him go.

So it happened, not in the Irish Sea with cold crashing waves. There wasn't time to plan a verse, a speech, a new name we were to choose for him. Instead, it happened in the cool of a summer pool, our pastor here stepping aside so Matt, father to our boy, could baptize his son.

Unplanned and clumsy. Beautiful abstraction. A boy saying yes to God. 

Hard to fit all that on a Certificate of Baptism.



What moments have left you undone, events you have planned that didn't turn out? 

Lazy summer into autumn

Oddly enough, my lazy summer days have made way for even lazier school days! It's just the wee lad and me most of the time, and we are walking in the park and window shopping and meeting for coffee and just hanging around being best pals. So here are some images from our current season of life, keepin' it real, keepin' it lazy.

 

first day of school

the offspring and me

and this happened... she's a kindergartener

work day (ok, a quick coffee break). look how fancy!

just the wee lad and me

splash park smiles

goodbye summer days

Today autumn is supposed to arrive, with afternoon rains and cooling temps. And we are welcoming a visitor from a place we used to call home. Big day. 

How's your Friday, your Autumn, shaping up?

Margin, boundaries & breathing room

As you can see, I've been messing around here a little bit. This is what happens when I'm overwhelmed with things (namely things I should be writing about, but somehow can't)... I move things around, play with design, add white space. I guess you could say it's my own version of therapy: adding margin, finding boundaries, making breathing room. 

Or maybe I'll just buy a premade template off Etsy.

But now, in honour of these last few hours of summertime, we're going to our happy place: Loose Park in the city. Maybe we'll see you there.



So how do you find margin, boundaries or breathing room? I could really use some pointers!

Today, you are the sea

Oh how I missed you, water and waves. You are only a Great Lake, but I can pretend. I don't mind. Today you are the sea.

He points his finger, yelling "Beach!" He was one week old when we first took him to the sea, when water and wind first splashed his wee baby face. And now he is nearly three and his deceptively fast legs take him home.

There is just something about watching them splash and run, roll around in the sand, fly into the surf with abandon. They are squealing, hopping. They are dirty and wild. We have no rules here, no wash your hands, no don't touch that. We are young and free for the next 90 minutes.

I hold my breath and take in the scent, the breeze, the sky.

Today, Lake Michigan, you are the sea. And we... we are young and free.

Sweet relief!

Sweet relief!

My brood and I are escaping the near-hell that is our fair city and the worst drought and heat wave of the last half century. On Sunday, Granny, me, and the wee three are going up north, to the land of dairy and Donald Driver, to camp out with the in-laws for a handful of days. (It'll be a miraculous feat if we all survive, but I'd rather take my chances on the road for 12 or so hours than for another week in blazing-hot-as-the-sun temps, trapped in our apartment with the three hooligans.)

Sadly, we're leaving Matt behind. He is staying here, working and finishing up some projects, readying us to go. It was his idea, sending us to Wisconsin, hearing my voice crack as I laid on the bed thinking of another week indoors, in the dark, so homesick for wind and water I could hardly breathe.

I've been high-fiving him all night.

So, thank you, honey. I will send you a mental postcard from Door County. You have saved my life, once again.

A summer of reading, music, and not much else

Last week I had a fantastic skype with my friend Nicole, updating one another on our lives, our kids, and - what's turned into one of my favorite aspects of our relationship - what we're reading, watching, and learning.

And since it's summer, and our schedule is more relaxed and fluid than it normally is (which for our family isn't saying much), the books and movies and activities to-do list is more fun than obligation.

So here's what we've got going on this summer:

My Books:

Still: Notes on a Mid-faith Crisis, by Lauren Winner : a book on navigating the "middle" of one's faith, Still leads me towards creative inspiration and hallowed prayer. Winner writes of a marriage ended and faith lost not from a place of bitterness, but from profound longing and anguish; a refreshing - though painful - perspective.

Grace-based Parenting, by Dr Tim Kimmel : This book comes recommended by loads of people and I'm averaging about one page of notes per five pages of reading. Confession: I don't read a lot of parenting books, so I don't have much to compare it to, but I feel none of the guilt and frustration I usually feel when I come across a how-to parenting book. Rather, I feel supported in our counter-cultural holistic family lifestyle.

Death Comes to Pemberley, by P.D. James : You know not only am I a fiction girl, but I'm an Austen girl. I was hesitant to pick up this continuation of the Pride & Prejudice story, written by a modern author, but it's a great mystery surrounding one of Austen's most stupefying characters: the sly Mr Wickham.

7: An Experimental Mutiny Against Excess, by Jen Hatmaker : On date nights, Matt and I usually end up at Barnes & Noble. Sans children, an hour alone with books and coffee is pure heaven for us. I picked up this book, and before I knew it, had read the first 30 pages before closing time. When I shared this with Nicole, she said, "Oh, I just finished it!" Like minds and all that. Thankfully, it was on sale for the Nook so I - gasp - bought it.

Full book reviews - hopefully - will be forthcoming (if I finish them... you know the drill). Stay tuned!

My Kids' Books:

Jack is reading several books by Kate DiCamillo, including his running favorite, The Mysterious Journey of Edward Tulane. I love that my boy loves books. And after months of urging him to try reads outside of Potter and Star Wars and Magic Treehouse, I'm so happy to see him explore new things.

Ella loves Eric Carle. Right now our nighttime favorite is The Very Busy Spider. Asher, who is much too busy for books, even gets in on the mooing and meowing action.

Mad props go to our local library, for loaning me these books and welcoming my rambunctious brood several days a week, and, as always, for being patient with the subsequent fines. Also, honourable mention to Sarah Bessey and her 10 books a day series. My to-read list has never been longer!

Music:

Mylo Xyloto, Coldplay : This album is brilliant. Coldplay seems to be one of the few bands that grows in lyrical content, style experimentation, and musical depth each and every go 'round. Love them. Love this album. Dance, work out, and/or cry to it. Favorite track: Charlie Brown.

The Shelter, Jars of Clay & Various Artists : This is our Sunday morning album. From the back of the car, I hear Ella sweetly singing "Where you lead us, we will follow," and I know she's not just singing the words, but she's singing the story of our family. Favorite track: Out of My Hands.

The Suburbs, Arcade Fire : I was late to the party on Arcade Fire, but I'm so glad I arrived! We have nearly nightly dance parties with the kiddos to this album, and I find that the post-modern-alt-rock arrangements touch my soul in ways not felt since Coldplay's Rush of Blood to the Head. Favorite Track (do I have to pick just one?): Ready to Start. (currently $2.99 on amazon!)

Movies:

The Way. Matt and I have been wanting to watch this film for ages. Several of our friends have walked "El camino de Santiago," or, The Camino, arriving home with stories of God and renewal. The movie is touching and has an internal, brooding kind of way about it. Not bad, but rather contemplative and stirring. And the cinematography! Oh, this film is gorgeous, in vivid European color and texture.

The Ides of March. Beware the film with sketchy protagonists. This film is meaty and fastmoving, and I felt like it was over too soon. As it reaches the climax, you know how it's going to end, but you still want to believe in the goodness of powerful people, even when you realize it's a mirage we're all only too willing to believe.

The Chronicles of Narnia films. This is our go-to cinema party staple. Good, family-fun fantasy, with spiritual depth and many teachable moments. My favorite is The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe adaptation; my children's favorite is Prince Caspian. But don't get my husband started on The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, unless you want to continually hear sighs and weary proclamations, "That's not how it happens in the book..."



Activities:

A friend of mine recently lamented that she had heard of the lazy days of summer, but with her six children, the concept eluded her (for good reason!). I can't speak for everyone, but somehow we have embraced these so-called lazy days. Maybe it's the heat, maybe it's the lack of a yard, maybe it's apartment living or transitional living or the days of waiting we still find ourselves in. Whichever reason, our keys to lazy living are this:

1. Forts. We build a lot of forts. In the living room, in the dining room, in the kids' room. It's messy and things get moved around and usually someone gets milk or food on my favorite quilt, but it keeps all ages occupied and happy for at least an hour or two.

2. TV. Yes, sadly, we watch a lot of TV these days. But I'm trying to mix it up: videos from the library, wii games, Friday night cinema parties, Netflix, and so on. Some days I feel uber guilty about it, this enormous amount of screen time, and other days I'm all like, "It's hot, I'm tired, they'll survive." That, in a nutshell, is my summer motto.

3. Occasional Outings. We are a one-car family, and with the heat, we really don't do many outings. Usually just one or two big ones a week. And by big I mean walking all three kids to the library or local playground before it hits 90 degrees at 9am. We alternate library outings with splash park outings and trips to the farmer's market, depending on the car situation.

4. Quiet times. By lunchtime, we all - kids and mom included - need a break from each other, so I make everyone take a non-negotiable quiet time in his or her (or our) room. Ash usually (still, but not for long!) naps, but Jack reads and Ella plays with Legos. Quietly. Sequestered. Away from Mom. Even if just a half hour, this helps us all slow down, recalibrate and face the rest of the day.

These things aren't much, but it's just about all I can do to keep the sanity around here. Our life is unorthodox, our near-future ambiguous, and I'm trying to not take it so seriously or, conversely, treat it too mundanely. We spend our days together, we laugh, we bodyslam, we jump for joy when daddy comes home, and - sometimes - we chew on the television remote. 

Ok, that's just the toddler. 

So.... what are YOU doing this summer? Any ideas for beating the heat in tight living quarters? Potty-training tips? Book suggestions for kiddos or adults? Summer recipes you want me to have my husband try?

[disclaimer: book/music suggestions contain affiliate links]