Ok, maybe I’m a little cranky.
Well… do you feel it?
The end of summer blues.
School starting up, vacations suddenly behind us and a certain clear crispness that is beginning to permeate the air. Yup. I can definitely feel fall waiting in the wings, all ready to pounce.
So, quite predictably, I’m already dreading that evil, bitter, icky, long winter. Apparently, it is possible to obsess over winter in August.
My friend Julie is the one who pointed out that I get all panicked like this every year. She’s obviously right.
Last winter, I was so grateful because I met another mother in my building. One that was cool and awesome and normal. We would pass the dark, cold afternoons chatting away as our kids played together in the lobby.
And she just announced she’s moving to the SUBURBS.
In October. Damn, that’s before the first winter chill.
Crap. I’m happy for her. But crap. So we immediately bought a house on the same block as hers. No, no… I won’t stalk her to Westchester.
Instead, I’m just trying to appreciate every moment of these glorious, sunny, perfectly warm August days.
I’ve been taking my kids for gelato in the afternoons… an attempt to ever so slightly extend our Italian holiday on the streets of New York.
Summer insists on strawberry ice cream EVERY TIME. Look, I certainly support her individual choices but I’m the one who has to keep licking it so it doesn’t all end up in a puddle on her lap. And strawberry is just… I don’t know… really totally not chocolate chip.
Dylan, who misses her nights out in the piazza, keeps asking me, “When do we get to go out at night again?” Somehow books and songs are just not measuring up to sprinting down the quaint, stone alleyways of Polignano in her pink, plastic, princess heels.
Oh girl, I promise before I have to throw a jacket on you, I’m taking you out at night. Maybe a little ice cream underneath the city lights. Dylan’s favorite flav is chocolate which, by the way, totally kicks strawberry’s arse.
For all of you who love strawberry ice cream, please don’t be offended by this post. Although I may not understand you, I certainly respect your ice cream choices. And if you ever want to explore some other, less gross flavors, I am here to help and support you.