I vividly recall the exhilaration of hopping off the school bus on the final day of classes as a child. Back then, summer vacations were genuine breaks, not the exhausting three months that adulthood often turns them into. I would toss my backpack aside, run barefoot through lush fields, and spend my days at the local lake, blissfully unconcerned about hygiene.
Teenage summers were pretty epic too. Juggling a job and still managing to hang out with friends until the wee hours was a thrill, blasting tunes from my favorite artists. Where did all that energy go? Nowadays, a good chunk of it seems to be stuck in the kitchen, where I just scrubbed the most stubborn stains, or scattered across my floors, which I vacuum daily due to the relentless dirt and debris my kids drag in. Don’t even get me started on my frequent grocery runs for essential items like toilet paper and cheese sticks, which we always seem to run out of.
Let’s be honest—adult summers can be a drag. There aren’t spontaneous vacations simply because the sun is shining. A parent’s life doesn’t slow down from May to September, and if anything, it gets busier. With the kids home all day, they demand attention that they don’t need when they’re in school, and I find myself repeating, “There’s food in the fridge!” far too often. My kids seem to change outfits constantly, leaving wet clothes strewn all over the house despite my reminders about taking care of them. Parenting is still a full-time job, but it feels like I’m working overtime.
I wish I could toss aside my mom jeans and dash through the sprinklers, perhaps with a mojito in hand. Now that sounds like a real summer getaway! Instead, I’m shuttling the kids to a seemingly endless array of summer activities, shelling out money for camps and ice cream. And then there are always extra kids in the house, munching on snacks and leaving chaos in their wake. I probably agreed to have their friends over while scrolling through social media, not fully paying attention.
But summer isn’t all bad. Occasionally, a familiar scent in the air or a fleeting moment with my kids can transport me back to those carefree days of yore—when I would dive through sprinklers and drift off to sleep with the gentle hum of a fan in the background. I remember biking to the beach or gathering with friends for games under the shade of trees, waiting for the ice cream truck’s familiar jingle. Those warm summer months were a canvas for colorful adventures, and I’m trying to give my own children that same freedom, even if it means sacrificing a bit of my own.
Perhaps those nostalgic moments serve as a gentle reminder to slow down and savor summer for myself—until reality hits, and I’m back to wrestling with the vacuum cleaner and making yet another grocery run. This time, though, I’ll be sure to stock up on ingredients for those much-desired mojitos. So, fire up the sprinklers, kids!