I'm writing this from within my cardboard fort.
Seriously.

I had my oldest son build a cubicle out of cardboard boxes for me this week, partially for use as my vision board, and partially because I needed to create some semblance of privacy .

My cubicle seems to remind friends and family of the boxes they played in as children. Hubby had a fort made of boxes, my prayer partner remembers a cardboard house, and I have fond memories of a rocket ship my mom created for me.

Should we "outgrow" those things that brought us pleasure as children? The cardboard forts, blowing bubbles, making mud pies? Why would we?

• Play with dolls (or action figures).
• Climb the monkey bars or swing on a swingset.
• Build a fort with blankets.
• Create costumes and play dress-up.

"Assuredly, I say to you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will by no means enter it."  Luke 18:17 NKJV

What will you do?

There's one thing I dislike about summer even more than mosquitoes: the lack of scheduled activities for my children.

Some of you probably have one eyebrow raised. You view these months as a welcome reprieve from the morning scramble to the bus, the hustle from school to sports to dinner to bed, and endless band concerts, recitals, and football games.

The rest of you are wondering why I don't just fill in these hours with time-delineated chores, swimming lessons, a summer class, more chores. Don't get me wrong, they do some of those things. It's the rest of the time I'm struggling with. Some part of my maternal being feels the need to micro-manage these all too brief moments of summer for them.

It was easier when they were small. When they were easily distracted with a handful of straws, a bottle of glue, and a pile of colored construction paper. When whole afternoons could be wiled away with a bottle of bubble solution, or a $6 plastic wading pool and a sprinkler. These days a momma's cure for summer boredom is as close as the Internet, where bazillions of websites offer creative ideas for entertaining little ones.

But what about the bigger kids? The preteens and teens who don't have jobs yet (or can't find one in this economy), who don't drive, and who declare the park, the rec center, and the library duller than death. Beyond pulling out my Cap'n VonTrapp whistle and playing chore drill sergeant, what else can I suggest for them to do? Or should I simply leave them alone and let them amuse themselves? Do I become Sergeant Mom and steal the cords from the electronics? (The thought has occurred to me.)

I hate unproductive hours. Time spent doing nothing, accomplishing nothing, producing nothing, makes me edgy, skittish, and frustrated. But my husband says that's the whole purpose of having a summer vacation, and I shouldn't concern myself with how they choose to waste their time, as long as it's not a sin or harmful to their health. But I feel so GUILTY as a parent watching them do nothing!

So, parents and grandparents out there... how do you handle the wealth of free time in the summer months?
Do you keep the same bedtime and morning schedules in the summer, or do you let your kids stay up late and sleep in?

We finished out another round of school last week, and celebrated the graduation of child #2. We've been on this homeschooling journey for eight years, and if we keep it up, we've got six more years to go. Just thinking about it makes me tired, but it's worth it, a good investment. At least, that's what I keep telling myself. Most of the time, the results concur.


And then, last night, I decided to flush out the accumulation of papers and folders and stuff around my desk. I pulled out an orange spiral notebook and flipped through its pages to determine the owner. I found this page of artistic free expression, drawn by my youngest. (He insists it's at least five years old.) 
(Please take special note of the creature labeled "MOM" in the upper right-hand corner.) 

Yes, I have been caricatured with horns, fangs, and pitchfork. And what appears to be tears and a booger. It must have been a PMS day.

I suppose I'm in reasonably good company, as the butterflies on the same page are also a bit, er, dark. What's the kid got against butterflies, anyway?
 
After I got over it (cue violins), I thought I'd share. Hopefully, if you're struggling with any of your own kids, this will make you feel a little bit better! And if all your children are perfectly well-behaved, polite, respectful little people who would never, not in a million years, think to draw a picture of you with horns and fangs, then you can pray for us lesser humans.
I'm so glad it's summer.

There's a slew of materials out there for "teaching" gratitude, from journals to coloring pages. Thankful leaves on bulletin board trees, and grateful feathers on construction paper turkeys made from the shape of a child's hand are wonderful visual reminders of what we're thankful for. But annual craft projects aren't enough to generate the lifestyle of thankfulness we want our children to experience.