Summer Break: The Parenting Version
Remember being a kid and counting down the days until summer break? Long, lazy mornings. Popsicles. Sprinklers. Zero responsibilities except maybe feeding your Tamagotchi.
Yeah. Turns out adult summer break is… not that.
Here’s what no one told me: once you’re the grown-up, summer break isn’t all sunshine and pool floats. It’s sweat, snack requests, and realizing your house cats are smarter than you because they refuse to move from the coolest spot on the floor. (Shoutout to Ted and Barney for living their best lives.)
Here’s the real adult version of summer break:
1. The snacks multiply.
When I was a kid, summer meant an Otter Pop. Now? My kids are apparently professional snackers training for the Olympics. Every 12 minutes it’s, “Mom, can I have a snack?” I’ve basically become a full-time pantry attendant.
2. The house is louder than a middle school cafeteria.
You know how summer sounds carefree in commercials? In reality, it’s kids shrieking over the hose, sticky flip-flops slapping the floor, and someone screaming “MOM!” from three rooms away. Meanwhile, Ted and Barney give me judgy side-eye for daring to disturb their afternoon nap.
3. Chores don’t take a vacation.
I thought summer break would mean less stress. Nope. The laundry pile looks like it’s trying to qualify for Mount Everest, and the dishwasher runs more than a Starbucks espresso machine.
4. Heat makes you rethink everything.
The kids want to go outside. Great! Except I’m melting on the sidewalk like a forgotten popsicle. The cats refuse to budge from the tile, and honestly, I’m starting to think they’ve got the right idea.
5. “Fun family outings” are a scam.
The kids beg to go somewhere fun. So I pack snacks, sunscreen, and water bottles… only to find out the snacks I packed are suddenly “gross.” Which means I get to BUY overpriced snacks on top of paying for tickets, parking, and whatever “must-have” souvenir catches their eye. By the time we’re at the activity — the one they begged for — someone’s whining, someone else is melting down, and I’m silently rethinking my entire existence. Why did I think family fun would actually be… fun?
And yet… here’s the wild part: buried under the chaos, there are these little flashes that remind me why it’s worth it. Sticky popsicle smiles. Backyard sprinkler laughs. Cats chasing shadows across the floor while the kids run barefoot until the sun sets.
Summer break as an adult isn’t restful. It’s messy and noisy and sweaty and expensive and exhausting. But it’s also memory-making in all its ridiculous glory.
So no, it’s not the popsicle-perfect summer I pictured as a kid. But maybe — just maybe — it’s better.
