This time of year in New York is full of endless possibilities. It’s not just because of the weather that brides and grooms choose to begin their lives together in June: This month is filled with hope and a sense of renewal. The summer is stretched out lazily in front of us, and is packed with trips to the beach and the countryside, leisurely meals, and athletic excursions.

In years past, I can remember pondering my summer plans and carefully trying to balance the pleasure of lounging around at a slower pace with the desire to take exciting trips. My husband and I deliberately punctuated the relaxing pace of June, July, and August with short bursts of weekend trips to visit people at their summer homes in delectable locations such as Nantucket, Sag Harbor, Jackson Hole, and Bridgehampton.

Before we had children, we received numerous weekend invitations. Some were from friends who didn’t have children; others were from friends who did. My husband and I were married for more than three years before we had children, and in those years we were the requisite lively, child-free couple for more than one family. You know, we were that one couple that’s happy to come over for dinner when your babysitter has canceled, or doesn’t think twice about hopping on a plane when there is a last-minute invitation to the summer rental in Maine or Martha’s Vineyard.

But my husband made a sad observation a few days ago about our new life as a family of seven. “We haven’t been invited anywhere this summer,” he said. “And I can’t blame our friends. Who would possibility want us as houseguests anymore?”

He makes a good point.

I can’t very well go and report on why it is that we haven’t been invited to our usual array of summer destinations. But I imagine it might go something like this:

Spouse 1: “Are the Bermans coming for a weekend this summer?”

Spouse 2: “I thought about inviting them, but where would they sleep? The four kids, the baby, and I’m sure they have a babysitter, too. We don’t really have the room.”

Spouse 1: “Good point.”

Or maybe it goes something more like this:

Spouse 1: “Should we invite the Bermans for a weekend?”

Spouse 2: “Hmmm, I forgot about that. I can’t even imagine the amount of food that family eats in a day, let alone a weekend. Also, I’m sure the baby is adorable, but a baby’s fun for an afternoon. Not a long weekend. You’d just end up complaining that you didn’t relax all weekend long and I’d be exhausted at the end of it.”

Spouse 1: “You’re right.”

Or maybe it’s as simple as:

Spouse 1: “Are the Bermans coming for a weekend?”

Spouse 2: “Are you nuts? They have five kids.”

However it goes, the bottom line is that I am quite sure the phenomenon of the dwindling invitations has nothing to do with our abilities for gift-giving, dishwasher-loading skills, or our children’s ability to sleep through the night in strange bedrooms — all of which are excellent.

“There’s an inverse relationship between the amount of children we’ve had, and the amount of invitations we’ve received,” my husband told me, as if he’d been mulling over the subject for at least a few hours since Memorial Day weekend. “The more kids, the fewer the invitations. It’s that simple,” he said with confidence. It’s not for nothing that he went to business school.

So the summer stretches before us with very few plans. This year, our new baby, Nate, is the reason for our enjoyment. Not the barbecue out West, the chowder in Nantucket, or the risotto at Nick and Toni’s. This summer will be lazier than usual.

But with five children, even at home, I doubt we’ll be sitting around for long.

sarasberman@aol.com