Third August

We are heading into our third August in Chicago. My husband is one year away from finishing law school. He has already had a small taste of life in a big firm, albeit a rosy taste. While being wined and dined by associates and partners, my husband has managed to dazzle everyone with the quality of his work, his work ethic, and his general charm. He's convinced one partner that he walks on water, and his advisor joked that he's on the one year partner track. My husband modestly shrugs off all the praise. Putting in long hours and getting the job done are nothing new to a man who has been in the workforce for twenty years. When I remark on his success, he looks puzzled. "I like to work."

I can see his point. All summer he's worked on discrete projects with clear objectives and a finished product that is either acceptable or edited. I wish parenting were like that. I can't just say to my kids, Okay, this week is potty training, next week swimming, and then we're going to perfect riding a two-wheeler.

Parenting is a process. After years of supposedly having "potty-trained" my kids, I still find myself reminding them to go, and to aim.

I am always surprised at how much they don't know, simply because I haven't gotten around to telling them. Who knew chewing was a silent pursuit? I'm more surprised at how long it takes for things to sink in, despite repeated reminders. Everyday I have to remind you that dirty socks don't go on the dining room floor?

Laundry, dishes, cleaning up toys and toilets, and other domestic duties are never completed, or at least, not for long. The satisfaction lasts only as long as it takes to toss a sock into the just emptied laundry basket, or put a dish in the sparkling sink.

I ruefully look back at three Augusts ago and the elation I experienced when my husband told me I didn't have to find a job just yet. How ridiculously luxurious that sounded, staying at home with the baby, keeping my house spotless, and having time to write, exercise, or play. It didn't turn out quite like I had planned. So I get it when my husband modestly brushes off compliments and tells me, "I like to work." There's work and there's work.

As much as I lack appreciation for my domestic duties, I am thankful that I am a teacher. More than ever in my life, I am appreciating a slow, mostly laid back summer. And I have embraced every drop of sunshine and warmth while I can. My own personal summer camp ended with a much anticipated visit to the Oak Park neighborhood in Chicago. My friend and I caught a delayed train to the downtown station, missed the connection to the Oak Park train, but took a crowded, noisy, slow "El" train there instead. We only had a short time to wander around view the remarkable Frank Lloyd Wright homes before we had to hustle off to get the train back.

I was in a particular rush because I had planned my son's birthday party for that afternoon. I picked up my kids from camp, muttering about the timing of "bike day" as I stuffed their bikes into the trunk, rushed off to pick up the birthday cake and the baby, and made it just in time to greet the first of five guests as they arrived at the miniature golf course. Unlike last year's Hogwarts Extravaganza, I decided to take it a bit easier this time. We drastically limited the invitation list. The kids played putt-putt, ate pizza and ice cream cake, and had a blast shooting foam darts at each other. I'm sure the golf course didn't appreciate the kids running around the course, in and out of the water hazards, or climbing over the obstacles, but I tried not to sweat it. They had fun.

A couple of days later, summer camp ended.

For the next couple of weeks the kids and I get to keep each other busy and entertained before summer's last hurrah, our family trip to San Antonio. I have given myself a series of discrete tasks to accomplish before it's time to go. I have my cousins wedding in New Jersey to prepare for, I have the next school year to organize, and most vexing, I have to figure out how to bake a wedding cake for a friend's nuptials.

In my defense, I was volunteered. But this has turned out to be far more challenging than I imagined when I reluctantly said yes. I have discovered that the cake can either be beautiful or delicious, but to make it both takes certain skills that I do not yet possess. I have made two prototypes, but haven't been entirely pleased with either. I'm going to take one more shot at it before the big day.

What can I say? I like a challenge. Like my husband, I like to work. I like those discrete, clear cut projects with a starting point and an end. Birthday party? Check! Wedding cake? Check! Dress for wedding? Check! Potty training? Mostly check! Swimming? Getting there! Riding a bicycle? See for yourself:

Like everything else, we'll get there, too. We've already made it to this third August.