Being a teacher, summer for my wife eases in without deadlines and lesson plans. It’s a glorious time of year, where Sunday evenings unwind with the crickets and fireflies.
With summer comes a change in my wife, and it's amazing to watch her transformation as school ends. Not that she's, uh, not always lovely and all, or doesn't care about the children. And as much as the children are the future, the future can wear you down over the course of a school year.
But just as soon as that last day of school is over, it's all about relaxation. All of that end of the school year stress just melts off of her shoulders and slides down her back. At least until that one random morning in August when she will leap out of bed with the realization that it’s all about to crank up again.
But the living is easy for now. Without daycare, we can all sleep in for a few months, and my wife can pretend that she doesn't have a job while my son, well, he can just resume being a maniac.
Summers are interesting at my house though. It’s not all R&R. That's because my wife's idea of relaxing usually involves power tools, I never know when I’ll come home to a construction site. Take yesterday, the very first freaking day of summer vacation, when I came home and found boxes of old tiles from where she’d ripped up in the sunroom. She’ll look at me with an innocent smile, the errant swipes of paint on her arms and legs, my kid’s hair with some combination of yogurt and oatmeal spiking his hair, making him look all mug shot crazy.