I get grouchy this time of year. Growing up in London, I was spoiled by the transformation that spring brings to that part of the world. Suddenly the streets are shining in the bright sunlight after months of dismal rain, and the flowers go bonkers. Wisteria, daffodils and other colorful gems sprouting from every stoop and windowsill.

Here in Boston the story is a little different. Cold. Frost till June. A few brave yellow daffodils here and there, but mainly inchworms eating up the leaves that are frantically trying to bud after six months of arctic weather.

The kids go crazy this time of year. Finally they can actually play on the playgrounds, walk the streets without getting frostbite, jump on a trampoline, play their sports outdoors. But here they shiver in their shorts until well into June.

In the summertime, life changes dramatically for both them AND for us. Isn’t it heavenly to get their little paws off those Wii games/ X-Boxes/ remote controls/ mouses and watch them running around, getting out of breath, PLAYING WITH EACH OTHER?

In the summer, there is much less mother guilt. The kids can be independent without being glued to an electronic device.

Interestingly, while we were doing our focus groups out West last year, some mothers complained because the weather is so good the kids never have an excuse to just veg out. Children and parents are supposed to be doing healthy things outdoors 100 % of the time without much room for indoor lazing around. Mothers there said they feel incredibly guilty whenever they hang out indoors.

Hm. They have a point. But, I’ve got to admit, I think I’d prefer that problem…

It’s 6:30pm.

I have sooooo much work to do.

My nine-year-old is sitting in the kitchen, supposedly doing her homework. She is probably watching her hair grow.

I feel guilty because I haven’t checked on her since my babysitter left half an hour ago.

Oh boy, the guilt… and work… never seem to stop! I think tonight I will watch my favorite show (In Treatment!) and give myself a mental break.

And for right now? Down to the kitchen, and on with homework.

Okay, so we’re on vacation. That’s usually a time when you can indulge a little and crack open a book or two. Or, well… in my case, three of four. I just can’t get enough of books. Reading helps me relax, it stimulates my imagination and I find it utterly engrossing. Eventually Kevin gets sick of seeing my nose buried in the pages and starts making comments like “Get a life,” and “Hey, remember me?” but I do a pretty good job of ignoring him.

So yesterday I rushed to get back to my book (the new Jeffrey Archer bestseller) and yelled to the kids over my shoulder as I scampered off to my room, “And, kids!  It’s time for you guys to read too!”

Half an hour later I started feeling guilty. Bet they’re on the computer, I thought. Better check on them. Not fair to ignore them totally now, is it? So I head into the hallway. All is deathly quiet. I peak into their rooms. All three of them are lying on their beds. Each one has a book propped open. EACH CHILD IS QUIETLY READING. Yes, reading. Quietly! So I go right back to my novel, guilt gone, feeling pretty darn happy.