This happens every summer. Or at least every summer in the past few years. It hits me, all at once, that my summer wasn’t very productive. I try, grasping at straws, to finish projects and do something noteworthy.
What will I tell my coworkers I did all summer? No real vacation. Only a few date nights/overnight trips. Mostly laundry, dishes, meal prep, and cleaning. No huge accomplishments. No trips to Africa. No volunteer work, well besides local churchy stuff. No huge childhood milestones. Only doctors visits, vaccinations, dentist appointments, lazy mornings, sensory play, babysitting for family, book reading, morning snuggles, attempts at potty training and similar adventures. And my personal to-do list, well, I barely put a dent in it.
Then I thought to myself, what am I trying to accomplish? What is my real purpose? What makes the biggest impact?
When you ask “What did I do this summer?” I will respond, “I loved my family. I’ll hold onto memories of sweet smiles and morning snuggles. I worked on having well rested soul and a well loved child.” That’s what I did.
Good bye, summer. Productivity is overrated.
On a similar note, this line of thinking makes me want to read this book: Present over Perfect.