Honeysuckle summer

Let me tell you about our Sunday.

We woke up early all in the same bed, my bed, because we’d just had a “mommy sleepover.” This is my new loft bed, which, fortunately, supports 500 pounds. 

We have Airbnb guests in the bulk of our house and are holed up in the back garden apartment that I’ve spent the last month manically constructing. It’s essentially tiny house living. While cooking for three out of a little kitchenette still takes some ingenuity and getting used to, it’s so cozy. The hugs, more readily available. 

I made coffee and then Eli and I cuddled in a hammock in the backyard and talked about life while we threw the ball again and again for Radish. 

Then me and the kids and the dog all went to Lowe’s to pick our new lights for our new bathroom. (Yes, we almost have one after weeks of construction.)

Eli and Evie liked everything gaudy, but one that they picked out seemed gaudy in just the right way. 

“Disco ball!” 

“Disco ball!”

“Disco ball!”, they chanted until I relented. 

It’s getting installed today so we’ll see if I made a horrible mistake or if it’s perfect. 

We then went to Williams Sonoma to get an urgent potato ricer. And then we went to The Grove, where we had THREE ORDERS of bacon, biscuits, avocado toast, and hashbrowns. Then we all went to Dolores Park, where Radish ran around with two dogs that looked almost exactly like him, and Eli and Evie ran all over the playground they grew up on.  

Then we took Radish home and went to Urban Putt. We brought our polaroid camera and each of us picked our favorite hole to take a silly photo at. Eli and Evie scored more than 300 points on Skeeball and lost their minds. We documented that too. 

THEN we rode bikes to our friend Andrea’s house, where we made homemade gnocchi, raced up and down the street on bikes, played some Nintendo and had a gorgeous dinner. 

Then we had rose-scented baths (at her house, thanks to construction), came home, watched some TV and cuddled and went to bed. 

That was ONE DAY. 

This is what being in San Francisco does to me. I find myself checking “select all” on weekends because there’s so much fun to be had. It’s the same with my schedule, with meetings, with food, with friends. And it’s not just because I miss it, because this was a normal Sunday before. 

I feel like in Palm Springs I’m good at being a human being. Here I’m a human doing. 

But, still, I love it here, and being here makes it feel like summer. We’re going to our camps we go to every year, making pizzas and burgers in the backyard, Radish gets to go to gorgeous dog parks multiple times a day. I work in the backyard surrounded by trumpet vines and jasmine and honeysuckle. 

I haven’t had my kids for three weeks, and I want this week to feel magical for them. I want these summers back home where they grew up to feel like a homecoming. To be what they think of when they think of summer. Sun-drenched days and foggy chilly nights. I want them to feel like for at least this week, they are the only thing in my world, even if I’m struggling to get work done and prep for a board meeting tomorrow and deal with endless construction-related issues. 

The great thing about divorce is how aware you are of the fleeting weeks of summer and the fleeting summers where you can be the center of your kids’ worlds.

Today, if you are choosing to focus on the good in this country and celebrate the holiday, I wish you a happy Fourth. And if not, I get it. I hope you at least have a relaxing day off from work.