Hello! Thank you for attempting to contact me via social media/text/phone/making eye-contact/etc. My brain is currently out of the office for the summer. I would love to respond to your request for my attention, but I am unavailable.
I am probably helping dress a child who just came out of the bathroom with their racerback swimsuit on backwards. Or I may be making making a meal. . . again. . . all the time. . . every day. . . constant cooking. I could be washing the third load of wet beach towels for the week. I’m likely mediating an argument about if Batman could beat Captain America in an armwrestling match. Or I’m at the park, pushing somebody on the swing and trying not to panic about somebody else climbing on the outside of the playground equipment. I could be at my mom’s attempting to have an adult conversation or I may have run away from home with a friend for a minute to restore my sanity. I might be talking to a neighbor kid about their favorite Pixar movie. I’m probably reading a book on the porch while supervising a kickball game. Yep. There’s a really good chance it’s that one.
Whatever it is I’m doing, my brain is just not really available for a lot of the things I love to use it for during the school year. I’m sorry about that.
If you’re wondering if I can help you with that project, I probably can’t. If you want me to weigh in on a current controversy, I’m pretty sure I wasn’t paying attention to it while trying to figure out where that smell is coming from (spoiler alert– it’s probably a balled-up swimsuit under a bed). If you’re wanting to come over so we can have a heart-to-heart about something, just be prepared for total chaos while you’re here and if a ball comes flying at your head, be prepared to duck. If you wanted to meet me for coffee/dinner/drinks/exercise class/book club it probably needs to be in the evening. . . and I might be so drained I just kind of stare in your general direction.
I promise I still want to be your friend. I want to help. I care about your stuff. I really would enter in to whatever it is you’ve got going on, but I have kids at home. They have just a few short summers and then they’ll be gone. I need to be present for them, even in the moments when I’d rather be off with you, saving the world, or shooting the breeze. I know I typically get back to you quickly and want to be involved, but now is just not the time. Please don’t take it personally. You didn’t do anything wrong, I’m not purposefully avoiding you out of anger, and I still love you. I promise I’ll be back to my usual self as soon as we’re done making memories here.
And if I reach out to you in a rare free moment and you don’t get back to me, I WILL UNDERSTAND. Your brain may be out of the office for the summer, too. If I send you a message tomorrow and you don’t get back to me until September, I’ll still love you and we’ll catch up when we can. If I see you wandering the aisles at Target, looking nearly braindead, I will send a salute in your general direction and we don’t even have to speak if you’re too tired. And if you need to verbal vomit about how exhausting summer is, I’m happy to listen to that too.
Just don’t forget me while I’m up to my eyeballs in preschooler drama and tween angst. I will reemerge and I’ll want to rejoin the adult world again. Just not today. Today I’m teaching the kids how to make spaghetti and then tonight I think they’re putting on a “bike rodeo” (I’m not sure what that means, but I’m sure it will be fun. . . and I should bring band-aids).
My full brain will be available again when we’re back to our fall schedule. Thanks for your patience.