6 minute read
FAMILY
SCHOOL’S OUT FOR SUMMER
Where is the balance between making the most of their time o without overscheduling?
BY JENNIFER ASHTON RYAN
I’m sitting on the front porch of a farmhouse in Paso Robles, California, watching my kids play while on a group family vacation this past spring. Among ve families traveling together are a dozen kids ages 2 to 10. Several of them have grouped up to navigate a zipline hanging over the lawn between two maple trees.
To ride, kids climb a ladder leaning against a tree trunk, swing their legs over a few high branches, and grab the rope from another child. For everyone 5 and over, this isn’t a problem. My youngest, who is 4, wants to ride, and I make no effort to assist. From 100 yards away, I watch her make it up the ladder while an older child balances in the tree to give her a hand. She does the leg swing move on her own, reaches for the rope, and glides down the line to resounding cheers from the friends she’s met only yesterday.
“Son, remember those are your only pair of shoes,” a mom yells from the porch as her son hurls a sneaker into the air to knock a football from a tree branch.
The husband recounts his own childhood, biking in rural Pennsylvania with his buddies after school. They’d travel 3 miles to the river with no directions beyond a time to return home for dinner. He remarks that in raising his own kids in Los Angeles, the need for supervision is constant.
From my viewpoint on the farmhouse porch, all looks right with childhood— kids mixed in age navigate challenges, make their own rules, giggle, yell, cry, and recover with each other instead of with adults. We’re around, but we’re not required to play referee or even camp counselor. Yet back home, school’s out in a few weeks and you know what I do not have planned? Downtime and free play. My kids are doing dance camps, gymnastics camps, chess camps, and vacation Bible schools. The sign-ups started in March with a urry of group texts to coordinate with friends, and I suddenly had all 10 weeks scheduled. When the instructor of my parenting class advised against summer overprogramming, I pulled out my iPhone calendar to review. Was I doing this wrong? Judging from the farmhouse scene and the camp-tuition hit to my bank balance, I might be. But that day in class when I heard the argument for boredom, what I really felt, to be honest, was mad.
Two summers ago, I had no choice beyond under-programming because there was no programming. Everything had been canceled and parents went from raising our young children with a village to being the sole providers of everything. I do not want or need another summer of that, so I choose programming. Yet this
farm stay is reminding me that it doesn’t need to be either or.
When I think back to my most vivid memories of playing as a kid, my parents are not featured. I would walk 10 houses up the street where the neighbor kids’ backyard morphed into imaginary realms with tree-stump thrones and caverns in the ivy. In the springtime I’d cross the street to look for ladybugs among a eld of yellow blooms. Yet, this childhood in Sacramento, California, in the 1980s was far from the independent reality I imagined my traveling companion experiencing in Pennsylvania.
I swam for UCLA, so you can imagine that, as a college athlete, I erred on the side of being at swim practice rather than bored at home. After school, I drove to the pool. Before I could drive, I went there by carpool. And, before that, I came home from elementary days and my mom would take me to violin lessons or gymnastics or the racket club, where my sister and I swam with no agenda beyond repeating handstands and underwater somersaults for hours on end. And it’s telling to think back to all of those violin lessons and practices because I’ll be the rst to admit that I never played the violin for fun. But being in the water at the same age, while my mom sat nearby but engrossed in her book, I found through play something that I absolutely loved. By age 10, I begged to join swim team year-round.
I know my kids’ camps this summer will be fun. And I’m also taking stock of what our family needs this summer. I would like to facilitate more moments like this one I’m enjoying on the porch—nothing scheduled, I’m not entertaining them, we’re not under stayat-home orders, and I’m not refreshing my browser for a grocery delivery time slot. I’m not raising my kids in a rural county in 1970. It’s not 2020, or even 2021. Now it’s 2022 and I am a bona de pandemic parent raising Generation COVID. It’s the time when my kids get to climb trees and gure out how to get the football back down. It’s childhood.
STAYING COOL
Toys, treats, and a shady place to play for making the most of long summer days.
BY JENNIFER ASHTON RYAN
SUMMER COLORS
> Visit Descanso Gardens in La Cañada to see purple, pink, and neon green—but the bright colors aren’t coming only from the fl owers. Adam Schwerner’s immersive “Your (Un)Natural Garden” exhibition, through January 8, 2023, features painted snakeways arching over oak trees and walking paths. The exhibit extends to the gardens’ indoor exhibition spaces, where you are encouraged to touch everything you see. Painted golf balls and rope look like spaghetti and meatballs in the formal dining room, so help yourself. Walk with open arms through a foyer fi lled with feather boas hanging from the ceiling. Upcoming live performances at Descanso include Into the Woods by the Pacifi c Opera Project and the Ensemble Shakespeare Theater Company’s What You Will. Check online for tickets. descansogardens.org
TOWER 17
> For days o school or work, the modern, vintage Candylab appeals to all ages. Set up the new Santa Monica Tower ($27), and pair the attraction with a new Classics car design such as a one-of-a-kind Woodie made from recycled skateboard decks ($100) or the Woodie Redux ($38), complete with veneer paneling and a magnetic neon surfboard to mount on the roof. The lifeguard towers painted teal or pink join other icons of Americana in the STAC lineup. Among the wooden block sets shaped like roadside attractions are the midcentury Lone Cactus Hotel ($45) and Soft Serve Shack ($30). candylabtoys.com
FROZEN ON REPEAT
> Nomad Ice Pops of San GabrielNomad Ice Pops makes for a no-guilt dessert makes for a no-guilt dessert stop any day. Inspired by allnatural paletas in Guatemala, the popsicles made from whole fruit come in fl avors such as Strawberry Mint, Balboa Banana with Chocolate, Arnold Palmer, and Peach Tamarindo. Visit the shop on South Mission, order online for delivery, or hire the company to cater a pool party or BBQ. You can rent a retro popsicle cooler to put out for guests to help themselves, and for larger parties, Nomad will send a serviced cart. Custom orders can include alcohol, as well as a unique ice pop shape, packaging, and stick design. nomadicepops.com
