As I write this I am enjoying the end of autumn, after fighting futilely to hold on to summer. Summer is the season that I resist the ending of. After all, we get only eighteen of these things before our children fly the nest.
When I realized how much I identify with this season, I gained a deeper understanding of myself. And I realized that how I see myself as a mom largely depends on how our summers go. If we’re making memories and having fun, then I feel like I’m doing a good job—simple as that.