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Two parks this morning alone… INCLUDING feeding ducks, playing with friends, and digging in dirt.

I woke up this morning and they had arrived: the Panic Days of Summer.

I knew it was them because I walked past the whiteboard calendar on the side of the fridge like I do every morning, but this morning was different. This morning, on some almost subconscious level, it hit me just how few days were left until the start of a new school year.

And I did the most natural thing possible: I panicked.

It wasn’t a full blown panic. More like a pilot light relit itself somewhere in my core and the anxiety furnace starting spewing ideas. I’m going to miss her! Just think how much less time I’ll have with her every day! We haven’t even done half the stuff I wanted to do this summer! (This is false: we have done zoo, vacation, camps, water park, playdates, children’s museums, etc. this summer. But panic is not a logical emotion so don’t try to reason with it.) What if someone is mean to her? What if she misses me while she is gone? What if she falls off the playground equipment and gets hurt and I’m not there?

Several instincts began to clash in my brain.

First, the instinct to hoard my child. To hold her close and give her as much adoration and attention and carefree childhood as I can in such a short time.

Second, the instinct to do ALL THE THINGS. To follow her every whim and give her free reign of choice of activities before she goes back to having no control over her daily schedule.

Third, the instinct to drink too much diet coke and coffee and lay on my face until the instinct to do things passes. (Actually, I think this one might be more of a pregnancy-induced feeling than a panic-induced feeling.)

Perhaps it’s just a normal resistance to change or fear of the unknowns that a new school and new class and new teacher will bring.

Perhaps it’s due to the impending arrival of #3 and knowing that “quality time” with each child will change in nature (because I will still only be one human).

Perhaps it’s simply the ever-present awareness of how fleeting this days are. I blinked and she was done with Kindergarten. I blinked again and the summer was gone. I will keep blinking and time will keep passing and it’s a beautiful thing, I know.

But these sweet summer days where she still wants to play with me and snuggle with me, but she is old enough to get her own snack sometimes or help me out with household tasks or the toddler…these days are a beautiful thing, too.

And once they’re gone, I can’t get them back.

So really, there’s only one thing to do: try to cram as much summer into the last three weeks of summer as humanly possible.

SO THAT’S WHAT WE WILL DO. (I’M YELLING BECAUSE PANIC AND ALSO ENTHUSIASM FOR THE CHALLENGE AHEAD.)

I’m signing off now because we are heading to the children’s museum. And also the library. And then to buy school supplies. And then out to eat for a mommy daughter date before swimming lessons. (See? I’m totally not joking. The panic is real.)

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