Counting Down the Dog Days of Summer

All over the city, the mothers are counting.

Forty-six, 45, 44. Turning on the hoses, filling the pools, smearing on the sunscreen, counting. Forty-three, 42, 41. Dealing the cards, scooping out the finger paint, cleaning the glue from the cat, counting. Forty, 39, 38.

They haunt the libraries, the parks, the museums, scour the paper for puppet shows and craft days, fix the breakfasts, brush the hair, answer the questions, fill the cups, do the laundry, and all the time they are counting the days until these kids go back to school.

For American parents, especially those who stay at home full or part time, the worst crime of ancient Rome was probably not the razing of Carthage. More likely, it was the moment Emperor Augustus filched a day from February and made August longer.

August is the month when the novelty of sleeping in and lounging around has officially given way to the time-honored polysyllabic pronunciation of the word “bored.” As in, “Mom, I’m bo-r-red.”

And the heat doesn’t help much either.

“I don’t know why they don’t start school in August,” says Beth Vangsness, a Riverside mother of three. “That’s when it really hits, when you’ve run out of things to do. We used to take our vacations in July,” she adds. “But this year, we’re going away the end of August. In July, you’re still having fun; by August you need some help.”

Some folks call it “summer burnout”--that feeling of exhaustion and irritation and desperation that often accompanies the constant presence of people who do not understand the meaning of the word “relax.” Small people. With many demands and very few resources of their own.

“Parents and children are used to dealing with structured activity,” says Richard Sherman, a clinical psychologist in Tarzana, “and in summer, it’s suddenly 24/7, and that can be very overwhelming.”

Some parents find solace in the day camps. Soccer, swimming, tennis, math, science, acting--if there’s something your kid likes to do, there’s an L.A. day camp where they can do it 10 to 3. But it’s not a perfect solution--for one thing, it requires transportation. Of the parental variety.

“I really thought this summer would be more relaxing,” says Therese Lee, a Westside mother of two teenagers and part-time magazine editor. “I was just looking forward to not having to get them ready for the bus, but Alex and Rebecca each have their own separate summer schools and then other activities after that, so I’m spending a lot of time driving them around.”

“I had all these plans,” she adds, laughing. “Plans and projects, and I can barely get my work done.”

For Lisa Millard in Aliso Niguel, summer with a 12-year-old, 5-year-old and 6-month-old requires a fair amount of strategy and many trips to the local coffeehouse.

“My 5-year-old daughter is in art camp and soccer camp,” says Millard, who is a part-time high school teacher currently on maternity leave. “And my oldest son right now is visiting relatives and next week has soccer camp. He has two households, so we have a lot of scheduling issues. And a lot of driving.”

But camps are only a partial solution. Not everyone can afford them, for one thing, and most are limited in length.

Kids tend to fill the rest of the summer months with such time-honored activities as biking and swinging and throwing themselves on the sofa with a barely intelligible wail about the heat and unavailability of absolutely anything to do.

“I just spent eight days back East with one of my friends,” says novelist Susan Straight, mother of three. “Nine kids, two adults, 100-degree heat and biting flies. We made the conscious decision that adult conversation was out of the question, and we took them to the pool every day, all day.”

Straight and her daughters live in Riverside, so keeping cool is her first line of defense.

“We try to go someplace shady for at least two hours. We’ll go to the Botanic Gardens or the park,” she adds. “Last year, we had 21 straight days of over 100, and we spent them mostly sitting in the air-conditioned back room reading Greek myths and playing cards.”

Everyone seems to agree that getting the kids, and your own self, out of the house for at least a few hours a day is crucial. That and lowering a few expectations.

“As parents, we go back to our own childhood fantasies,” says psychologist Sherman. “We want to re-create them for our children. Problem is, our memories tend to block out a lot of what it really was like, and, for many people, the environment now is completely different. There are very real safety issues. You can’t just send an 8-year-old to the park.”

Sherman suggests working with other parents to plan structured outings and taking turns supervising them. “If you make Tuesday ‘Beach Day,’ or ‘Finger Painting Day,’ it gives the kids something to look forward to. It doesn’t have to be elaborate, and the benefit is it gives parents some time off, even if it’s just a few hours.”

But, he adds, plans should be flexible, because kids tend to be.

“Mom may come up with these really great activities and the kids just want to shoot hoops,” he says. “It’s all a question of balance.”

“I got very panicky at the beginning of the summer,” says Vangsness, “and I made all these lists of special snacks I would make and crafts we would do. That worked for about two weeks. By August, it’s whatever keeps them happy.

“You have to learn to bend the rules,” she adds. “Yesterday we went out for doughnuts in the middle of the afternoon.”

“I’ve learned to take things as they happen,” says Millard, about keeping her kids entertained, “although sometimes a good cry is what helps.”

Time out for yourself, with and without your mate, helps. Encouraging the kids to play by themselves and not interrupting it when they do, helps. And surrendering to reality helps, too.

“I don’t even try to work until they’re asleep,” says Straight of her three children. “And projects? Forget it. Nothing makes my kids glom onto me faster than when I start, say, cleaning out a closet. . . . So I do things a little at a time.”

It also helps to remember that no matter what your mind and jaw and stomach would have you believe, summer occupies a finite amount of time.

“I remember a few years ago walking into my friend’s house,” says Straight, “and she was sitting on the floor playing cards with her kids and she looked at me and said, ‘One-hundred and ten days.’ ”

“I didn’t understand what she meant then. I certainly do now.”

Mary McNamara can be reached by e-mail at [email protected].