The emotional stages of summer

Having young children is an emotional roller coaster. I look forward to the end of the school year because we all need a break from homework, packing lunches, and busy schedules but I am also a nervous wreck. How will I survive eleven weeks of summer? It is a never-ending weekend.

In May, I start to worry about how I am going to keep my kids active and entertained. Did I book enough weeks at camp to keep the girls busy? How will I be productive at home if they are home? I search the internet for more options just to find out that by May everything is booked. Of course, it is! All organized mamas know you must book camps in February. Then I start the positive self-talk, “It will be okay, I can do this, I will make this a fun summer with their mother. We will hit the pool in the afternoon, squeeze in some beach days, do some baking, and plan a few mother-daughter field trips. I enter June full of hope.

Mid-Summer and it is apparent that I don’t have this. Reality has set in. I am frustrated and on the verge of a nervous breakdown from the constant fighting and screaming. I cannot be productive at home because I cannot hear myself think. I must have overlooked the fact my children are feral animals. Sweet Jesus, please somebody come to pick up my kids. On the off weeks that the girls were not in camp, I had our babysitter come over so I could get some work done. So, the answer is no. I did not book enough camps. Ella and Adriana are too active to try and entertain themselves quietly inside.

In August the outlook is good. It’s like Christmas for moms as we shop for school supplies and new threads. The school supply lists are long but if the teacher had a pony on that list, I would buy it. Whatever it takes people. Just take them back. I fuel my excitement with school drive-byes and tell my husband that it is carline prep, so I know how early to arrive. I feel like a lottery winner on Meet the Teacher Day. I was glowing as we unpacked their suitcases of supplies. I am so grateful that my children have a safe place to learn with amazing teachers that are not located in our living room.

The first day of school arrives and now I am weepy and reflective. I cannot believe the summer is over, did I spend enough time with my babies? Did they have fun when I wasn’t yelling? Did they enjoy the family vacation? Will they remember their summers fondly? I hope they didn’t regress a grade level because we didn’t read all summer. I have failed them.

I snap the celebratory first day of school pictures and shed a few tears. I realize I am going to miss these crazy girls. After I dropped them off in their classroom, I had this nagging feeling like I was forgetting something. But, by the time I pulled out of the school parking lot I regained the ability to hear myself think, and joy returns.

Panic, frustration, quilt, and gratefulness in a nutshell.

Ella and Adriana enjoying our annual beach vacation.