Lan´guish`ing
1. Becoming languid and weak; pining; losing health and strength.
2. Amorously pensive; indicating melancholy; as, languishing eyes, or look.
3. Suffering neglect, neglected.
4. Continuing in a weak or deteriorating state, lingering.

I’ve been languishing this Summer. I don’t hate Summer or anything. As a matter of fact, here are some of the many things I love about Summer in Seattle:

• Playing on the beaches.
• Listening to the girls singing the songs they learned at Bible camp
• “No rush” mornings.
• Vitamin D (great for migraine prevention!)
• Dinner outdoors.
• Sprinklers.
• Picking the entire salad out of your garden.
• Freckles.

But there are things I don’t like about the Summer too. For instance, the kids are here all the time! Lest you think I’m the only one this bugs, let it be known that the girls don’t like having their sibling around either. They fight –a lot! I think it’s because they aren’t used to having “sissy” in their space all day long. It’s August, and they are just now getting used to the fact that they have to learn to play nice.

Also, in the Summer I am a full-time mom and housewife. Actually, I’m always a full-time mom and housewife, on top of being a part time pastor/writer/artist. But in the Summer there’s no six hour school day to make space for the other part-time stuff – so it falls off my plate. There’s no time to write, make art, see spiritual direction clients, attend writing group, or grab a yoga class. Now, I realize that’s a pretty cushy little list – so go ahead, move your thumb and pointer finger around in little circles and play the invisible tiny invisible violin for me if you need to. But I can’t help it, I miss that stuff. It feeds me, and without it, I get tapped out.

The last couple of weeks have been especially hard in regards to burn out. There were a lot of commitments with the extended family, and Paul and I barely saw each other with all the back-and-forthing and extra fun Fun FUN family extravaganzas. Plus, there’s always Monkfish to take care of (I forgot to put out the sign up sheet and ended up cooking every night in July); and the Wolfpup – who’s mother just came home after being in Croatia for six weeks; and my Mom and Dad’s vow renewal ceremony to prepare. All of this with absolutely NO self care. (I know, I know … I’m a spiritual director, I should know better than to scrimp on self care. What’s that old saying…something like,”the shoemaker’s children have no shoes.”…?)

Needless to say, I crashed.

Here’s what I wrote in my journal last weekend, when we finally got away for a retreat with our pals the Hyde’s….

“I’m exhausted, really tired and worn out. I feel like I’m molting. Like great half-dried chunks of clay are falling off – like a mold cracking open. Do snakes feel worn when they shed? Do birds feel rare and exposed when they molt? Or bugs when they leave behind bone-leaf carapaces? Will my skin be rubbed, pink and raw and tender? Who will I be underneath all this caretaking?”

I realized I needed some self-care, even in the kid-centered life of Summer. Rather than write out my ideally balanced life, I went ahead and wrote out the basics, and here’s what I decided were absolutely non-negotiable:

I feel better already.