The clock is ticking. Just nine days until summer break officially begins at our home. It’s not quite the excited “Nine days until the holidays!” vibe; it feels more akin to “Nine days until I face a dentist’s nightmare.” And honestly, I wouldn’t even call it a vacation.
In an ideal world, my kids and I would spend our summer days basking in the sun, indulging in ice cream, and working together to cultivate the juiciest watermelon in our backyard. But alas, reality has a different plan.
My children thrive on routines. When left to their own devices, they spiral into chaos, tears, and frustration for all. I try to mitigate this by enrolling them in countless summer activities, but due to their age differences, it’s like trying to fit a square peg in a round hole. My days often turn into a frantic race to shuttle them to various commitments, all while they voice their disdain for the entire process. “Why do I have to go to his class, Mom? When do I get to do something fun? It’s so unfair!”
And let’s talk about the expense of these activities. Honestly, a single week of toddler gymnastics could feed a small village. And for what? Watching my kid do a glorified log roll instead of a somersault? “What am I paying for? This isn’t skill; it’s just rolling around!”
We’ve also invested a small fortune in swimming lessons for my daughters. My six-year-old is still in a beginner class learning to blow bubbles, terrified of anything beyond ankle-deep water. Each lesson is a reminder of her fear, yet we continue to pay for it—if only for an excuse to get out of the house.
Then, there’s the beach. It’s free, and the kids adore it. But for me, it’s a test of endurance. The sunscreen application alone takes forever! And don’t get me started on the snacks, drinks, and all the other paraphernalia I have to haul. I only have two hands! Trying to keep my adventurous three-year-old from playing “Frogger” in the parking lot is a feat in itself.
And the sand? Oh, the sand. It infiltrates everything—our van, the house, even the silverware drawer. I’ve had nightmares where my kids bury me in it, leaving me helpless and covered in sand while they taunt me with popsicles that keep dripping into my eyes. I wake up in a panic, only to find it’s not a dream. “Can I at least get some Visine?”
I wish I were the kind of mom who thrived on crafts and DIY projects. If that were the case, our weeks could be filled with creative activities: “Build a birdhouse Monday,” “Craft a fairy garden Tuesday,” and so on. But unfortunately, my kids have the opposite of a crafty mom.
I know my attempts to establish a balanced summer schedule will ultimately fall flat, leading to the following delightful exchanges:
- “Why can’t we get a pool, Mom?”
- “I’m bored.”
- “I’m hungry.”
- “I’m bored and hungry.”
- “All my friends have pools.”
- “Why do I have to pick up sticks again?”
- “This is the worst summer ever!”
87 days until school resumes. But who’s counting, right?
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Summary
As summer vacation approaches, the anticipation is filled with dread rather than excitement. With kids who thrive on routine, the chaos of summer activities and the challenges of managing their boredom and expectations present a comedic yet relatable struggle for parents.