Let me clarify: summer break does have its perks. For instance, it’s nearly over, which is a relief because I’ve had my fill.
I can hear the sound of a spoon clanging against a bowl, likely filled with cereal, which will undoubtedly be left in some random spot in the house. This will lead me to repeat my mantra for the week: “WHO LEFT CEREAL OUT AGAIN?” And it’s not just the bowl that’s abandoned; I can bet the cereal box is still open on the counter, along with the milk. Despite their claims of boredom, my kids seem to find cleaning up after themselves to be an insurmountable task.
Our garage is packed with bikes and scooters, their rooms are cluttered with gadgets, their closets are overflowing with toys, and their shelves are buckling under the weight of countless books. Yet, they wander around acting as if they have “nothing to do.” Instead, they occupy their time squabbling over trivial matters like who dances better in Fortnite or, even worse, who forgot to flush the toilet … again. If only five minutes could pass without shouts, pushes, or me yelling, “JUST LEAVE YOUR SIBLING ALONE!” But alas, I’m still waiting.
A more organized and patient mom would have a list of fun summer activities ready to stave off boredom. But that would mean crafting, projects, messes, and we all know how that usually turns out — like the time I accidentally super-glued my fingers to my pants.
I wish I could encourage them to put down their screens and engage in creative play, but “creative play” often leads to new mess-making techniques. For example, when they decided to climb to the top bunk and fill the ceiling fan with tiny paper balls, then turned it on to create “snow.” Or that time they concocted slime, using almost my entire bottle of expensive detergent.
Any good intentions I had at the beginning of summer have vanished, and the structure I hoped to maintain has turned into chaos. We haven’t done anything remotely educational in, well, a month? (Sorry, teachers.) The house has become a free-for-all for screen time, and three distinct meals have morphed into one long, continuous snack of dubious nutritional value. I find myself counting the days since they’ve had a proper bath — soap included — and I can’t recall the last time anyone wore matching clothes. If they want to wear Christmas pajama pants that look like clam diggers, so be it.
The ceaseless ding-dong of the doorbell sounds like a cash register, signaling that neighborhood kids are adding to my already high food expenses while letting the AC escape. I still can’t fathom how a handful of children can demolish a Costco-sized box of popsicles in just two days, yet here we are, out of popsicles.
This chaotic, artificially-colored “break” has my Mom Guilt soaring, eclipsed only by my desire for low maintenance. I simply don’t have the energy to be a fully engaged mom 24/7. At this point, I daydream about dropping them off at school with backpacks full of snacks and saying, “Alright kids! Just wait here; the doors will open soon.” Then I’d make my escape.
While summer allows for some flexibility, school brings back a routine. Yes, it means the stress of getting everyone up, dressed, fed, and out the door, but that’s a small price to pay for the peace that follows. After all, I relish those precious hours free from the sounds of cartoons, bickering, and the incessant whining of, “There’s nothing to doooo!” and “I’m starving!”
I love my kids dearly, but right now, I’m ready for them to head back to school. I’m a better mom when I can catch my breath, and at this moment, I’m suffocating in this summer togetherness. May this final stretch of break be brief, allowing me to return to a predictable daily routine and send them off for the education they deserve. And then I’ll cry because the house feels so empty without them.
Darn kids.