Why I’m not giving opinions this week

It’s for the kids

Others have said it; memes have meme’d it. A former president made history yesterday. Days before that, red lines drawn in Rafah sand were supposedly crossed, then excused. The rest of the world gathered in protest.

Yes, AND this is the first week of my kids’ summer break.

They are with me full-time. We live far from friends. It’s a struggle trying to keep my active tween boy off Fortnite and find friends for my autistic daughter. (I do 99% of the arranging and hosting). I have all the time in the world and yet no time. This is my first hour alone in five days. 

Right now, I’m trying to be present for them. Set the tone for summer. How is this new schedule going to work? What structure works best? How can I build some kind of infrastructure so that my isolated children with very different needs and interests have friends, do activities, challenge themselves IRL, and build confidence? Hint: it’s not with screens.

It’s a new landscape, one that must be renegotiated every summer. 

My friend recently posted on Facebook asking parents for their advice on screen time. What do they allow their kids? What are the criteria for earning it? It was astounding to read the replies, ranging from “My kids don’t have screens” to “We have no limits” to “My kid self-regulates well” to “My kid can’t self-regulate at all.”

Answer: depends on the kid.

This digital world is such tricky territory, one our parents and ancestors never had to navigate. We’re all learning, one stumble at a time.

There will be time for more opinions and opinionated writing. And time to get sad and mad at the state of affairs. But not this week. This week is about the kids.

Like this new stuffy my daughter just made. Her name is Fathom. She represents the element of Water. My daughter designed her on Procreate, then ordered materials and made her with the help of her art therapist.

She has designed a stuffy for each element and already made Fire, or “Sunny.” Next up is Earth!

My daughter doesn’t like hikes, but my son wants to climb all the peaks in Juneau this summer. We’re starting with baby hikes like this one (below). My body is sore from hiking, biking, and rock climbing. I need to get back into shape!

On East Glacier Trail

May was a tempest. We said goodbye to many loved schools, programs, and staff. Thanks to the budget insanity, I’m still not sure what I’ll be teaching next year. We’re trying to find grounding on fault lines; we’re grieving.

Even computers and phones need to be turned off and slept so they can recharge. Have you ever pressed pause on creation? How did that work for you? Tell me in the comments.

Speaking of hard things, I finished revising the last quarter of my memoir. It was rugged. Writing about the thrilling but abusive relationship I endured with my first husband felt like excavating a bullet.

Recently, I decided to re-read Mary Karr’s ART OF MEMOIR. In the first chapter, she writes:

“In some ways, writing a memoir is knocking yourself out with your own fist, if it’s done right. Nobody I know that’s written a great one has described it as anything less than a major league shit-eating contest. Anytime you try to collapse the distance between your delusions about the past and what really happened, there’s suffering involved.”

Some memoir-writing friends think Mary Karr is being a bit harsh, but that’s how it felt for me: violent.

Then the whole P. Diddy-Cassie Ventura thing played out, and footage of his abusing her was leaked, and peoples’ reactions on social media were all like, If he was so bad, why did she stay with him?

Fair question. Why did I stay with my ex? I’d like to write about it—but not this week.

This week, I am inhaling serenity and exhaling adolescent rizz. (Don’t ask me what that means.) I am trying to be present for my kids. So they can feel worthy and loved and hopefully never have to work out their bullets. (And I realize how flippant that sounds when children in Gaza and elsewhere are doing just that.)

Thank you for your understanding. After this tiny reset, I hope to be back in full writing force next week.

Here’s to serenity. For all.

Xo,

Summer

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P.P.S. Any memoir writers out there? Do Mary Karr’s words ring true? Have you ever pressed pause on creation? How did that work for you? Sound off in the comments!