It’s a bright, sunny Wednesday morning at 11 a.m., and my tween, Mia, is tucked away in her room. I take the dog for a walk, run some errands, and squeeze in a few hours of work. Three hours pass, and there’s still silence from Mia’s room. I peek inside to find her lounging in her pajamas, engrossed in her iPad.
“Hey, sweetie,” I call from the doorway.
“Hey, Mom,” she responds, not bothering to look up. I catch a whiff of unwashed hair mingled with the synthetic scent of her fruity body lotion.
I hang around for a moment, feeling an urge to nudge her into action, but I decide against it. “Don’t forget to grab something to eat,” I remind her as I quietly close the door.
Not long ago, this scenario would have sent me into a whirlwind of anxiety. When my two older daughters were younger, the mere thought of an unstructured summer would have overwhelmed me. I envisioned a chaotic house, overflowing laundry, and neglected snacks hidden behind the couch. With friends attending math camps or honing their climbing skills elsewhere, I felt the need to keep my kids busy. I packed them off to day camps, arranged visits with grandparents, and filled our calendar with outings to keep boredom at bay.
From kindergarten to fourth grade, those organized summers worked for us. With school year obligations filling their schedules, my kids had boundless energy for summer adventures. If I’d suggested they lounge around at home, they would have eagerly embraced the idea for a couple of days—then the complaints about boredom would begin. My summer would have become a relentless cycle of crafting, theme park visits, and driving them to friends’ houses. This wasn’t the kind of summer I wanted to manage; they needed more structure at that age.
Then came the tween years.
When Mia returned from her sleepaway camp and declared she wasn’t interested in attending day camp, I panicked. I tried to convince her that she was making a mistake, caught in a lazy trap of her own making. But she stood her ground. With no way to force her into camps, volunteering, or entrepreneurship, I begrudgingly allowed her to… do nothing.
I remember thinking, “Let’s see how long she lasts.”
The first week confirmed my worst fears: she lounged in her pajamas, avoided showers, binge-watched shows, and immersed herself in online games. She munched on cereal all day and baked cookies, leaving a trail of cheese puffs behind in the dimly lit TV room. This extreme relaxation ignited my motherly guilt. Shouldn’t I be pushing her to learn a new skill, read a classic novel, or at least watch something educational? Wasn’t it my responsibility to oversee her growth every moment of the day?
The second week began with a similar pattern of screen time and minimal hygiene, and I continued to fret. Then, a shift occurred. Mia asked me to take her to the pool for lap swimming, started walking the dog without complaints, and made plans with a friend to stroll into town for frozen yogurt. Between outings, she chose books over screens, created a photo collage, and sorted through a mountain of old papers and projects to recycle.
As she became more proactive in shaping her laid-back days, I found myself worrying less. We often went about our activities separately, but our paths occasionally crossed. We’d lie on my bed in the afternoons, engrossed in our books, a rare indulgence for both of us. Grocery trips, baking sessions, and leisurely walks punctuated our days. My errand-running and her solo movie marathons coexisted in harmony. Without the constraints of strict schedules and endless to-do lists, we both found time to unwind. Our days concluded with fewer worries and more laughter.
In reality, we all need moments of relaxation to recharge. With my kids’ packed school year schedules, summer offers them a rare chance to do absolutely nothing. Allowing Mia the freedom to simply be inspired me to embrace that freedom as well. In a world that prioritizes action over rest, lounging in pajamas and watching movies for a week or two is a small act of rebellion. In this case, I know a certain tween—and her mom—who are ready to join the revolution, even if just for the summer.
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Summary:
This article reflects on the author’s experience with her tween’s summer of relaxation, emphasizing the importance of downtime for both children and parents. It challenges the pressure to fill summers with structured activities and promotes the benefits of allowing kids to enjoy leisurely days. Ultimately, it highlights how shared moments and freedom can create memorable summer experiences.