Muddling through the dog days of summer makes me ready for the routine of fall. I was really looking forward to August. I wanted to enjoy the last “pool days” with no camp and no commitments. I just wanted to get up and go to the pool with my sweet water babies. Well, the joke’s on me. I broke my foot. The doctor doesn’t want me out of the walking cast. I don’t want to take them to the pool without someone with me. Charlotte swims with a flotation device due to my extreme water anxiety. We’ll start swimming lessons next summer when she’s four.

We didn’t do swimming lessons this summer with preschool camp, dance camp and gymnastics camp. I didn’t want to over schedule her. Which leads me to my autumn dilemma.

I’m worried I over scheduled my 3-year-old.

Here’s our plan starting in September:

• Preschool half-days, four days a week. She eats lunch at school. Ends at 1:00 pm.
• Tuesdays: 50 minute gymnastics class after school at 2:00 pm.
• Thursdays: 90 minute dance class after school at 1:45 pm.
• Fridays: Free!

A few details:

Nap time typically begins a 2:30pm around here. Naturally, that will be later on Tuesdays and Thursdays. I’m worried that will throw off her nap so much that she will start giving it up, which I am NOT interested in doing. This kid is a sleeper and needs naps. I know some 3 1/2 year-olds have already given them up, not my kid.

Charlotte does better on a schedule and when we are busy. When we have days at the house like we’ve had recently her behavior suffers. If we sit around the house I get either anxious or lazy. Neither is good for my psyche. That’s why I get out of the house everyday to work out or go somewhere and do something. We have not been bored since I started staying home and I like it that way. I did leave Fridays open on purpose.

I want her to be a stimulated, well adjusted preschooler who’s extra-curricular activities make her more than ready for Kindergarten. But, I also don’t want her to have an over-scheduled childhood that results in her getting into a fine private university before flunking out in the first semester in a pot-smoke haze. You know, rebelling against her yuppie, scheduled upbringing.

Plus, my Mom was like, “She doesn’t need all that! She’s only three!” Cue the guilt. 

So, if you were me, what would you do? I feel like we could drop gymnastics if it’s too much or if her naps start to suffer. Thoughts? How many extra activities are too many?

When quiet kids talk we tend to look up and listen to their few but poignant words. We praise them for speaking up. But what about our little chatterboxes? The ones who talk incessantly?

I have one of those. My daughter prattles on from the moment she gets out of bed until she talks herself to sleep at night. She tells us stories she makes up in her head. She recites her favorite movies. She retells books she loves. If you have ever met me in person, you understand this is an inherited trait. My mother listens to her, shakes her head and laughs.

Sometimes I tune out the noise. I don’t realize how incredibly articulate she is. She is smart, no doubt. I worry we’re going to forget the funny things she says as a 3 1/2 year-old. I’m writing some here.  Here are some things she has said recently:

“I want to go to Chinas someday. Can we go to Chinas? Is it far away? Do we have to get on an airplane?”

“Mama, do I have preckles? I want preckles on my face. I have moles.” 

“When I get married to Sam I’m going to have a ring and he is going to look so handsome and I’m going to wear a pink dress.” 

“When I’m five I’ll be big enough to have bubblegum, right Mama?”

“When I’m the flower girl I’m going to be so beautiful in my dress and throw flowers down the aisle.” 

“Oh look. I’ve been impaled.” (That’s a line from “Frozen” for all you non-parents out there.)

“Mama, Tiki said poopy butt. We don’t say poopy butt. I said, ‘Tiki! That is not a nice word! That is a potty word!'” (Tiki is one of her imaginary friends.)

“I’m gonna find a little frog and kiss it and he will turn into a prince and I will marry that little froggy!” 

(Upon inspecting my broken foot with purple bruises. She points at one bruise.) “Mama, I don’t want a purple dot on my foot. I couldn’t do dance with a purple dot!” 

“That was not an accident! You did it on purfose!” 

(After seeing a man jogging with no shirt on.) “He is running naked!” (I explained boys and men can go without shirts.) “That is so silly! Psh! Boys!”

I’m listening to the far-off sound of fireworks from our community fireworks show, praying they don’t wake my babies. Like many other parents of little ones, we celebrated America’s birthday this morning with a kiddie parade, hot dogs and ice cream. My 3-year-old helped me decorate her tricycle before peddling her way adorably down the main street of a nearby town.

It wasn’t today, but yesterday that I felt more patriotic than I ever had in my life and I’ve seen that one Budweiser commercial during the Super Bowl after 9/11 and watched fireworks over the Potomac while hearing John Philip Sousa Marches.  Charlotte got a new children’s book that had the lyrics of “America The Beautiful” on each page with impressive illustrations. We explained to her that the book was a song. Admit it, that song gives you goose bumps way more often than the “Star Spangled Banner.” When we were finished reading it she asked us to sing it to her. We are not singers in any way, but Greyson and I smiled at each other and began our rendition with “Oh beautiful, for spacious skies…”

Somewhere around “…God shed his grace on thee…” she grabbed both our hands and smiled up at us. In that small moment, during our off-key serenade, I had never been more grateful to have the freedom to be raising little Americans. Happy Independence Day.

This week marks a big first for our family. We’ll be cleaning and packing all week because for the first time ever we’ll be getting on an airplane and taking a trip as a family of four. A 7 month-old and a 3 1/2 year -old on a plane. It should be interesting. Part of me wants to ask you to have mercy on our souls and another part of me is so excited I could burst.

The first time we took Charlotte on an airplane she was 10 months-old and we were going to a wedding in Quebec. We had to get her a passport, the works. It was a nightmare to get where we were going, but the trip was amazing. Henry’s first trip will be to Nebraska, so nothing international. We are going to Greyson’s family reunion. His family members are not the Southern Baptist teetotalers that mine are, so it should be fun. (Not that you aren’t fun, extended family! You know I love you and our games of Outburst while drinking sweet tea.)

After our trip to Quebec without our stroller we will NEVER travel like that again. I have an issue that I need advice on, however. Here’s where I need your help. If you were me, which stroller would you take? Please see the photos and read on.

Stroller #1

• Pros: Fantastic, beautifully made and durable. I have the accessory parts and tire pump in a little pouch. It folds up well. It’s easy to maneuver. 
• Cons: It’s a single stroller. Only one kid in it at a time. 

Please note: We will have the Ergo carrier for Henry. He loves it. Charlotte has not sat in that stroller in a long time. I don’t know how she would feel about it. She is good at staying with us and holding our hands in crowds. She likes to ride on Greyson’s shoulders.

Stroller #2

• Pros: It’s a double stroller. Both could stroll if they needed to. It has a huge storage compartment underneath. Henry is often soothed by his sister next to him in the stroller. 
• Cons: It’s cheap and cheaply made. It doesn’t fold quite as well. The tires are flimsy. It’s not as easy to maneuver. Charlotte will sit in it for a little while, but demands iPhone or iPad play while riding in it. (Actually, I’m fine with that. Whatever. Judge me.)

Another note: We’re going to the zoo one day of our trip. We’ll have to wheel it around the zoo.

Okay! Help me out. What have your experiences been? What do you think I should do? Which stroller should we go with?

Me: “What’s Daddy’s name?”

Charlotte: “Greyson. That’s his name.”

Me: “How old is Daddy?”

Charlotte:  ::pause::”I don’t know Mama, tell me. ”

Me: “No, I’m not telling you. How old do you think Daddy is?”

Charlotte: “Five.”

Me: “What is Daddy as big as?”

Charlotte: “A Daddy!”

Me: “What color is his hair?”

Charlotte: “Brown.”

Me: “What color are his eyes?”

Charlotte: “Blue, like me.”

Me: “What’s his favorite food?”

Charlotte: “Mac and Cheese.”

Me: “No, what’s Daddy’s favorite food?”

Charlotte: “Spaghetti.”

Me: “What is Daddy’s favorite drink?”

Charlotte: “Milk.”

Me: “No, what’s Daddy’s favorite drink?”

Charlotte: “Beer!”

Me: “What’s his favorite color?”

Charlotte: “Orange.”

Me: “What does Daddy like to do?”

Charlotte: “Watch TV.”

Me: “What does Daddy do at work?”

Charlotte: “He works with people.”

Me: “Who are Daddy’s favorite sports teams?”

Charlotte: “Tar Heels and Auburn.”

Me: “What does Daddy do that’s funny?”

Charlotte: ::giggle:: “I don’t know!”

Me: “Yes you do! What does he do funny with ‘Frozen?'”

Charlotte: “Sing Olaf!”

Me: “What do you like to do with Daddy?”

Charlotte: “Dance with him and sing.”

Me: “Who is Daddy’s best friend?”

Charlotte: “You, Mommy.”

Me: “Why do you love Daddy?”

Charlotte: “Because he loves me so much.”

I can’t imagine being somebody’s (somebodies’) parents with anyone else. We love you, Greyson. Happy Father’s Day. Happy Father’s Day to all the daddy’s out there.