Lately, we have been enjoying:

Swimming at Grandma and Papa’s house. Last week I took a quartet of kids over there and met my brother’s family for an afternoon swim. We’d been having many days in a row over 100 degrees and we were all feeling fried. (I think it got up to 111 degrees one day.) Our home’s AC decided to die during this time, so we were fried and desperate.

Little JuJu called me Tia for the first time. Tia means “Aunt” in Portuguese.

Asher has found his flippers, so to speak. He finished one set of swimming lessons this summer and is now done with fear. Grandma Syd took him to eight lessons as a gift to both him and me. Best! And now he’s a fish, using his new skills joyously, without all the trepidation and worry he used to have. His strokes need work, of course, but I’m sooooooo delighted that he’s enjoying the water now.

Independence Day. We opted to spend the holiday mostly in the pool, after a bit of work time.

We made an Asian noodle salad for dinner, roasted sweet potatoes, and these red-white-and-blue fruit skewers with whipped cream. Simple. Satisfying. Done. It was about all we could handle.

The boys were satisfied with huge packages of sparklers and some front-yard fireworks. The grandparents enjoyed their cavorting. The dog coped better than most dogs. All in all, it was a very relaxing afternoon!

A whole new kind of independence from our older son. This is a strawberry quick bread he made, without a recipe. He didn’t want one. He was only interested in doing it all on his own, so we let him. When the bread was done, he set the table, placed a lily in a vase, and put out matching cloth napkins. The bread was good, though we agreed that the recipe needs some tweaking, such as more baking powder and longer baking.

This independence is also manifesting in his solo runs; herb harvesting, drying, and storing (he now has several glass jars full of dried herbs in his room); and various craft projects, like this star made of spent daylily flower stalks, which I completely adore. He made two and they adorn the side and back fences of our garden.

This summer, Lucas has been sent on his bike with a backpack to the supermarket to buy things we need for the first time, and has traveled to and from friends’ homes on his own. He is itching for more freedom, too. Today we had to talk about not leaving the house early in the morning for a run without telling us. Recently, he made a jigsaw puzzle for his brother—out of wood—using his 4-in-1 woodworking tool!

So, all in all, I would say that, lately, things are good. We are all growing and stretching into new skills and new patterns. I have new clients. Ian has new and exciting pursuits. The summer days are ticking by, but there’s still plenty of time for books and boredom, play dates and deadlines, camping trips and day camp.

Tomorrow marks passage of the first month of summer vacation. I’d say we’re doing it right.

Lucas has just passed his half birthday, bringing him to the ripe old age of 8 and a half. And although I took these photos about a month ago, to me they capture something of his present age. This is my sensitive, clever boy flying through the air, determined, sure-footed, and courageous. He knows his capabilities. He can plan his footfalls, and he can adapt and switch course if he needs to.

He is self-assured and confident. He often marches into unknown territory with aplomb. His place in the universe is known and secure.

But there is still plenty of room for striving, for challenging himself, for testing and experimenting. It’s imperative. He must negotiate his way through space, through relationships, through his own needs and self-knowledge. He knows that he might get hurt, but he also knows he will heal if he does.

Sometimes he falls short or is disappointed. Sometimes he takes blows to his ego. Sometimes, despite all our efforts, he feels unloved and unwanted. He sits in judgment on himself and sometimes he doesn’t like what he sees. This too, is part of his age. He’s right where he’s supposed to be, figuring out who he is, and where and in what ways he is separate from others.

At this moment, he’s preparing to leave home. He has been planning an adventure for a few days now—one that he’s going on all by himself. He needs some freedom, he tells us. (At first his plan was to spend a whole day and night away, on his own, but that’s been modulated down to a more reasonable bike ride to his friends’ house a few blocks away. He knows to call me when he arrives there.)

Carpe diem! He is ready. He has a backpack full of provisions—lunch, a magnifying glass, and notebooks for any scientific discoveries he might make along the way. He also has his wand, just in case any bad guys or Dementors hassle him. He has his instructions and air in his tires. He knows his phone number.

Ah. That’s the bell on his bike. I hear it ringing as he rides out of the driveway, shouting good-bye. He made sure to give me a big hug and kiss, and gave some to his dad and brother, too. I saw the sparkle in his eyes. He is full of both our concern and our trust. He is feeling big, and capable, and sure.

Fare thee well, my sweet son.