It seemed fitting to use lyrics from Joni Mitchell’s “Big Yellow Taxi” in my blog post title this week, because that’s what I feel like. A big ol’ taxi (and the tips are shit). School’s out for the summer and yet, the morning rush and time spent in the car has only increased. I drive in large loops or geometrical-like configurations all. damn. day. Hours spent staring at paradise (well depending on the direction you’re facing), as I pound the pavement and desperately try to hit skip on my Spotify before my eagle-eyed eldest child catches a missed Taylor Swift opportunity.
You don’t understand, if I hear “Our Song” one more time I will literally die. I’m even using literally wrong. Things are that dire.
I’m stressed. I’m stressed because our routine is different. I’m stressed because the piece I thought I would write this week needs more time—and more installments.
I always feel pressure to put on the best summer ever for my children, like I’m a cruise ship director and my passengers have limited attention spans and an unlimited capacity for obscene quantities of organic apple juice and killing the ‘big box’ of extra cheesy goldfish every few days.
I fear the untold hours of therapy they will have to endure as adults because their summers were not equal parts magical and educational. (God forbid they fall prey to the dreaded ‘summer slump’, which I’m pretty sure is just a marketing ploy to sell more workbooks.)
Certainly we have some phonics lessons to brush up on, but what I’ve been thinking about is pop culture, specifically movies, TV, and music from my childhood. The way I consumed culture at their age. The way my kids consume it and how I can introduce them to more of it.