I still vividly recall the thrill of hopping off the bus on the last day of school as a child. Back then, summer vacation meant pure freedom, not the exhausting three-month marathon it can feel like as an adult. I’d ditch my backpack, dash barefoot through the fields, and let my hygiene slide as I splashed around in the lake every single day. Totally sanitary, right?
Teenage summers weren’t too shabby either. I juggled a job while somehow mustering enough energy to hang out with friends late into the night, cruising around with tunes from the likes of Marky Mark. Where did that energy go? I’ll tell you—some of it is now residing on the kitchen counter I just scrubbed (seriously, how does that happen?). The rest has likely made its home on my floors, which I vacuum daily due to the mountains of dirt and grass my kids drag in.
Let’s get real: summer as an adult can be exhausting. There are no automatic vacations just because the sun is shining. A parent’s life doesn’t slow down from May to September just because the kids are off school. In fact, it’s the opposite; my schedule gets way more hectic with the kids home, demanding more attention than they do during the school year.
If I have to hear my son open the fridge and declare, “There’s no food!” one more time, I might just lose it. My kids change outfits a hundred times a day after getting soaked and leave their wet clothes everywhere, despite my constant reminders about laundry etiquette. I’m still juggling chores, but now I’m doing twice the work. I want to trade in my mom jeans for a swimsuit and run through sprinklers too—preferably with a mojito in hand. Now that sounds like a real summer vacation!
Instead, I find myself shuttling my kids to endless summer activities, shelling out too much cash for summer camps and ice cream. And let’s not forget the extra kids who seem to flock to our house, devouring our snacks and doubling the mess. I probably said yes to them coming over while scrolling through Facebook, just to get some peace and quiet. Note to self: pay more attention.
But it’s not all doom and gloom. Sometimes, a familiar scent in the air or a glimpse of my kids at play will whisk me back to those carefree days of my childhood—running through sprinklers and dozing off to the gentle hum of a fan. Remember those old oscillating fans? They’d even change your voice if you talked into them! I find myself reminiscing about biking to the beach or lounging under trees with friends, waiting for the sweet sound of the ice cream truck. Those summer months were a blank canvas, filled with colorful adventures, and I’m trying to give that same freedom to my kids, even if it means I sacrifice a bit of my own.
Perhaps those nostalgic moments are a gentle reminder for me to slow down and savor summer. That is, until reality kicks in and I have to pull out the vacuum again and make yet another mad dash to the grocery store. This time, though, I’ll stock up on ingredients for those mojitos. Fire up the sprinklers, kids!
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