Last night I returned from a wonderful weekend getaway. It got me reminiscing about the summers of my childhood. Mine took place in the magical land known as the 1980’s. It was a vast landscape of blockbuster movies, shopping malls, wiffle ball, skateboards and bicycles – all of it backed by a soundtrack made up of some of the greatest music ever recorded. Another quintessential event in summer was the proverbial “summer vacation”. Each year it would be determined where our yearly adventure would lead us. My sister and I would pack up everything absolutely critical to kid’s survival in the 80’s: tape decks, headphones, handheld videogames, drawing pads, flip flops, beach towels, and select action figures suitable for battle in foreign lands.
The summer vacation was so important that my Dad converted his pickup into a sort of pre-historic SUV for family travel. It was equipped with a carpeted bed and camper shell, creating a comfortable open space for playing and sleeping. He even built a custom wooden truck box for us. My sister and I each had a compartment to hold all the aforementioned items and the center of the box featured a separate and independently controlled car radio! At this point I feel compelled to state that traveling with children in a truck bed, covered or uncovered, is NOT recommended and subject to legal restrictions! Remember, it was the 80’s and child safety was viewed a bit differently back then. Speaking of summer activities, I’ll save my memories of lawn darts for another day. You know, the weighted solid steel pointed arrows designed to be thrown through the air as a group activity… oh, just Google it.
In any event, endless miles of highway rolled by this goofy little kid in the back of that truck. If I could be there again, I’d pay more attention to all the exciting places we went. I’d stare at the mountains of Colorado a little longer and appreciate the way the sand felt between my toes on that very first trip to Florida. More importantly, I wouldn’t wait to until adulthood to tell my parents how much those vacations in all their glory, and intermittent disaster, meant to me. I was lucky to grow up in middle-class suburbia where the idea of summer vacation was an experience common to every kid I knew. Today I’m aware that it was a luxury that not everyone received, but no matter what the experience entails, I believe summertime is important for EVERY child. Even our legal system recognizes that summer is a special time for kids! Did you know that nearly all Parenting Plans contain a specific provision addressing how much time each parent will receive for summer custody/vacation time? Often, parents fear that a written parenting plan will limit their freedom to plan activities, but actually a parenting plan gives each parent a predetermined and legally enforceable amount of time to spend with their child during those happy summer months away from school. It eases the scheduling conflicts and arguing that often accompanies summertime for separated or divorced parents. Moreover, summer custody can be designed any way that works for the parents! Some opt for a week on/week off schedule, while others designate two or more specific weeks each summer for vacation time. Other summer activities such as summer camps, sports, and the related costs can also be set forth in a parenting plan, taking the guess work out of who’s going to pay, who’s going to provide transportation, etc.
If you’re not spending this summer with your child or if your summers always involve conflicts with your child’s other parent, call or message us today! It doesn’t matter what kind of experience you can afford to provide your kids, because summer has no rules and it’s all up to you. Sometimes its vacations to places far away or a weekend road trip, Route 66 style. Sometimes it’s as simple as some lazy days off school with friends and the smell of hot dogs on the grill. Either way, I assure you that someday when your child reflects on the glory of summers past, all the extravagances will give way to the tiny little moments. That’s how it happens to me. Suddenly I’m there again, the rattling of bicycle chains, sprinklers hissing and lawnmowers murmuring in the background. Dad’s AM radio crackles in the garage while he clanks on an automobile with a stubborn disposition. Mom‘s colorful flower beds announce to all that this is a home where we appreciate the small things – a lesson I’ve never forgotten. Soon the streetlight outside that little house will glow in the dusk and she’ll call down the street that “it’s time to come home”. She’s right of course. We get lost out there and we forget that summer vacation isn’t about where we go, it’s about who goes with us.