At the end of every summer, a dark cloud arrives at my front door. It kind of rivals the dead of winter in Chicago, where it’s just too cold to go out and with all the effort it takes to bundle everyone up it’s just better to stay at home in your warm socks and hibernate.  Here, of course, it’s the heat and the mosquitos and going to the pool is just too much work.  And since I’m not a crafty mom it’s basically a cyclical schedule of dress-up, reading books, watching endless hours of Sprout and eating, which is something my almost 5 year old is doing with abandon these days.  Growth spurt, much? Fortunately, we seem to be entering into a new phase of actually playing well together, if even for an hour or so.  It almost makes me feel like I’m being neglectful – is it ok for them to play alone upstairs?  Do I need to be in the same room with them??  This is all new to me.  But here’s the biggest thing: these “dog days” are tough on me and my mental well-being.  The last two days I have been in such a funk – I think Vann was concerned something might be physically wrong with me.  Recently, he came home from work and I was crashed out on the loveseat in the playroom while the girls created chaos around me.  I was just. so. tired.  Now, before you get all concerned – I am taking my meds and yes, I’ve struggled with depression off and on my whole adult life.  I’m an extrovert and get my energy from other people, my friends, my peeps.  Strangely, summer feels so lonely to me.  I know, all the Vitamin D and all…but everyone is in and out of town and schedules are erratic and there isn’t any unadulterated Mommy time unless you get a sitter and/or your hubby graciously agrees to give you a night off.  I’m gonna say something controversial – I can’t be with my kids all the time and stay sane.  I need routine, preschool, MOPS, church, MNO/GNO, Bunco – all the things that keep my mind firing on all cylinders.  I miss the rush out the door to get the girls to school on time, the interaction with friends in the parking lot, meeting those same friends for lunch and feeling a little more energized at 2:30 pm when I come back to pick them up. I feel like there is this catch-22: on the one hand it’s easier to spend a morning at home because you can stay in your comfies and all of your “stuff” is close by – on the other hand it’s harder because your 2 year old’s screams reverberate off the walls in such close proximity you want to claw your eyes out.  And yet, she just might scream if you take her out of the house, so sometimes I wonder – what’s the point?? So excuse me for just surviving these last 3 weeks before my life (hopefully) returns to the norm I know and love.  And before you ask me if I’m exercising and doing all those things to get endorphins going – yes, yes, I am.  At 5:30 am, which in no way helps me in the middle of the day when I want to dangle my children from the catwalks.  I’m kidding, of course.  Sort of.