At the end of July, I caught myself thinking… it has been a really long time since I’ve had a normal week.
Normal’s always a relative thing, isn’t it? But this summer was especially unusual. Juggling kids’ school transitions, starting a new role, quick trips, and having my wife in a musical made for some oddly packed weeks.
But in the midst of it, there were a lot of moments.
I want to remember that Sunday night with one last improv show with Metal People, my team of three years. Some of my favorite people to play with! The finale allowed me to take the stage as David Attenborough, Steve Urkel, AND Stephan Urkelle.
I want to remember my wedding anniversary, and probably our weirdest one yet. My wife played a role in 1776 the Musical. The role of Declaration of Independence signer Joseph Hewes, to be specific. Our 11th anniversary fell right on opening weekend, so our anniversary pics from this year will look very strange next to our others.
I want to remember the 2026 World Cup and the way my kids each took to its magic. They each adopted a different team to support because of trips we’ve taken together. Japan for my oldest. The Netherlands and Canada for my twins.
This summer was a strange one.
The previous chapter of my life has emphatically closed, while the next one is in its infancy.
While all the changes had me viewing life from a birds eye view, I found the eclectic, maximalist activities of summer to be grounding.
My kids eat like kids. In other words, they’re ~selective~ in ways I just odn’t get.
In an effort to get my kids to broaden their tastes, I’ve tried letting them take the lead in planning meals and preparing some dinners. The hypothesis is that you’ll appreciate the meal much more when you’ve had a hand in making it.
My four year old decided he wanted to start by cooking up some tricolor rotoni, but it worked out.
Our oldest is at the age where each summer, we’ll need to figure out how to cobble ten weeks worth of *stuff* to keep him occupied while we work. Ideally enriching, educational *stuff*. Between four weeks of summer school, a church camp here, a music camp there, a family trip, and a week or two of just having him at home during work hours and seeing what happens… I think eclectic is our new normal.
While the summers will be more bizarre, the school year will at least be a lot more stable. Our twins wrapped up their time in daycare. We’ve been giving a large portion of our income to this daycare center for the past six years. With each packed lunchbox and tuition withdrawal, I’ve kept thinking… this is all about to get much simpler. And cheaper!
This summer marked a pretty big shift in our parenting rhythms.
I remember how much more grown up my oldest started to appear after starting school. The dwindling weeks of daycare was a big reminder of how much bigger all my kids were getting. The last vestiges of the toddler stage flipped by. Those toddler years were so chaotic but rewarding.
And now, something new.
Not that I needed the reminder of how quickly things have been changing lately.
All the big changes have made me better appreciate the simpler windows of light and simplicity. That is to say, the World Cup was very well-timed.
Despite the extensively documented corruption of FIFA, all the drama with the US playing host while at war against a participating country, and lots of other scandals, there’s still something aspirational about the tournament that persists.
The idea that people can be more curious about another country’s midfield than its military. The way a committed Conogolese fan has gotten people to learn about Patrice Lumumba. The way competing fans make each other smile with their Viking rowing and tartan.
I took my six year old to a friendly match that was played locally, between Colombia and Jordan. My ulterior motives were to get him hyped on the sport, maybe inspiring more outside play. But I’d be lying if I said that building a bracket and wearing jerseys all summer didn’t feed my inner child.
While much of the world came here, I did a lot less travel than I typically do during the summer. We scored one little family trip to the Central Coast, and a very fast sprint to El Salvador.
The pupusas live up to the hype. The horchata de morro deserves more hype.
The main attraction for me? Seeing some baby hawksbill turtles.
And then at night, going out to café and seeing a good crowd there gathered to watch the World Cup quarterfinals. From my little corner of the internet, it seemed like the world had turned on Argentina this year. But not so in El Salvador. The albiceleste jerseys were everywhere.
On a quiet week in July, I got lunch with a former co-worker. We had a lot to catch up on.
In the first half of the year, I ended a longtime job and started a new endeavor.
I ended my run with two improv teams and began playing with another.
Then there’s the whole school transition my kids are undergoing.
These are pretty significant areas of my life that have changed all at once.
So many longtime colleagues are now former colleagues. Teammates are now former teammates. And while friendship goes on, the reformatting of my life is a lot to keep up with.
One other change happened this summer. One of my favorite restaurants in town shut down suddenly. A Detroit pizza joint. It was as simple and as sudden as their lease being canceled. This felt so trivial compared to all the other changes in my life, but it was enough to make me stop and say, “you too?” to a pizza shop storefront.
One chapter was closing pretty definitively. And it was a chapter I loved.
On a far more serious note, I also spent lots of time visiting one of my closest family members in the hospital as her health, at 93 years old, took a downturn.
While in some ways, it fit the pattern of more unwelcome change, it also reinforced my appreciation for the “normal” times. For the lightness of life’s in-between spaces. Helping a four year old scoop pasta. Driving to LA with my mom. Sampling pupusas.
New chapters are just beginning, and those will have their share of ordinary simple things.
As always, I want to appreciate them as they unfold.
I want to remember that the tentpoles of your life aren’t permanent, and to not rush any season.
I want to remember to slow down the things I’m able to.
I want to remember that it’s really such a gift.