As a child, the last day of school felt like a liberation. I would toss my backpack aside, run barefoot through open fields, and embrace the freedom of summer days, often neglecting showers after spending hours swimming at the nearby lake. Back then, summer was a true getaway.
Teenage summers weren’t so bad either. I balanced a job with late-night adventures, cruising with friends while blasting the latest hits. Where did that youthful energy go? Now, it seems to have transferred to the kitchen counter I just scrubbed—arguably the stickiest surface known to mankind. A good portion of it is scattered across my floors, which I vacuum daily due to my children tracking in dirt, grass, and leaves. And let’s not forget my frequent trips to the grocery store, where we’re mysteriously always out of essentials like toilet paper and cheese sticks.
Let’s be honest: summer as an adult can be challenging. There are no designated breaks simply because the weather is nice. The pace of a parent’s life remains relentless from May through September, if not more hectic, as children are home and demand attention they typically don’t need during the school year.
If I hear my daughter open the fridge, look inside, and declare, “There’s no food!” one more time, I may just lose it. My kids seem to change their outfits fifty times a day because they’re perpetually wet, leaving a trail of soggy clothes on the floor despite my constant reminders about proper laundry care. My responsibilities haven’t diminished; in fact, they’ve increased. I still work but now have to juggle more tasks. I yearn to ditch my mom jeans and run through the sprinklers, perhaps with a mojito in hand. Now that sounds like a real summer vacation.
Instead, I’m shuttling my kids to a myriad of summer activities, spending too much on camps and ice cream, and suddenly finding myself hosting a few extra friends in our home—who are just as messy as my own children. I may have said yes to those friends when I was distracted by my social media feed, wanting peace and quiet. I definitely need to focus better.
Yet, summer isn’t entirely bleak. Occasionally, a familiar scent in the air or a glimpse of my kids at play brings back memories of my carefree days. I recall racing to the beach on my bike or lounging under trees with friends, waiting to hear the sweet jingle of the ice cream truck. Those warm months were a blank canvas for colorful adventures, and I’m striving to give my children similar experiences, even at the cost of my own leisure.
Perhaps those nostalgic moments are prompts for me to slow down and enjoy the summer, at least until I’m jolted back to reality by the need to vacuum again or make another grocery run. This time, I’ll be sure to stock up on mojito ingredients.
Fire up the sprinklers, kids!
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