It's the time of year when when one of my former classmates posts a writing challenge on facebook linking me back to her blog, and reminding me of my neglected blog that I need to start writing again.
It's the time of year when I join one of those blogging challenges and add my own input to "Write with Me Wednesday". On Thursday.
It's the time of year when overflowing suitcases sit opened on my bedroom floor, taunting me with the need to do laundry, with certain items pulled out, and other carelessly wadded back up on top, on the sides, across the room.
It's the time of year when I start planning next year's travels. I read somewhere that you only really have eighteen summer vacations with your children, which means we have less rather than more to come with Alex.
It's the time of year when I take a long look at our yearly budget to see where I can find more travel money.
It's the time of year when I force my children to try on all of their clothes to see what fits and what is needed for school.
It's the time of year when I would love to be trolling the aisles of Target looking for the perfect school supplies. If only our schools didn't purchase them for everyone for uniformity reasons.
It's the time of year when I wonder what I was thinking of signing the kids up for different camps each week, all starting and ending at different times and exponentially worsening our commuting schedules.
It's the time of year when I begrudge all my coworkers off on fabulous vacations, who throw salt on my open wounds by leaving me extra-large piles of work on my desk every day by their assistants, as per the coworkers' instructions.
It's the time of year when I wonder why my coworkers didn't do the same for me while I was on vacation.
It's the time of year when I find it hard to concentrate at work because memories of golden sands on my bare feet, cool blue waters that iced us right away, green mountain vistas that took my breath away, and snowball fights in July, are still fresh in my mind.
