My early parenting regret, and why I can live with it

If you’re like most American mothers, you work to help support your family. Even though I knew strong opinions on this existed well before I became a mom almost 11 years ago, I didn’t really wrestle with it myself when my first child was on the way.

While I would have loved to stay home with him full-time, I knew we couldn’t do it yet. I was crossing my fingers that someday I would, and sending my husband some less-than-subtle hints, that I preferred to stay home with my little ones through that first year I spent as a working mom. But I felt a bit silly to insist on it. It’s not like I was the only working mom out there. In Greater Boston, where we lived at the time, staying home was the exception, not the rule.

I’ve learned to see my inclination to the domestic in a different light as my family has grown. First of all, I look back with a lot of empathy at myself when I was struggling through early motherhood while juggling a deadline-driven job that, to be frank, didn’t pay enough to make the stress worthwhile. We were just making ends meet in those days, and feeling burned out and guilty about the time away from my son was demoralizing when I was working such a stressful job as a reporter. On the other hand, I was lucky to work about 32 hours and have a three-day weekend every week. Plus, I spent half of my work week at home. What was I complaining about?

Here’s the reality, though. Looking back, I can see that my son dealt with a lot of separation anxiety that I am quite sure was directly related to his primary caregiver dropping him off in someone else’s care three days a week. Now, it makes so much sense because I understand that my son is a highly-sensitive person. Back then, he was a blossoming child and I had nothing to compare him to. Perhaps insisting I not put him down the entire three days I wasn’t working was just normal?

It honestly does make me really sad to know that the separation really hurt him, as I know it did.

At the same time, my body was sending blaring signals that this work/life arrangement wasn’t working for me either. It’s normal to shed a lot of hair after you have a baby, but my hair fell out in clumps for over a year after I had my first child. I easily went below my pre-pregnancy weight, and I was always on high alert when I was working in the office. Every phone call made me jump. I was waiting to get bad news from the daycare. How awful!

When we wanted to have our second child, I struggled to conceive, and had a miscarriage when I finally did. My doctor told me stress was probably the main culprit for my secondary spell of infertility (not the miscarriage itself), but at the time I was so out of touch with my feelings I just brushed it off. Stress from work, you say? Pish posh; work is just part of life!

Over the years, I was very blessed that I was able to take time out of the working world to stay home as our family grew in size. Eventually, we hit critical mass and working made no financial sense when baby number four came.

And now I see that, rather than an idealistic, entitled brat, my wish to stay home with my children was really the most practical and healthy choice for me and my kids. Childcare is exhausting. Work is exhausting. They are competing priorities, no matter what anyone tells you. If you’re stressed and burned out, your body may respond by unceremoniously deciding you don’t need all that hair on your head. Your child may fearfully cling to you, making your work-free days feel just as exhausting as those spent in the office.

Is being a working mother really without many downsides? No. For me, there were just too many.

For a short time, I lamented that I didn’t wait to start my family until our finances allowed me the option to stay home. I truly believe it would have been better for my super-sensitive son not to be separated from me as an infant. I’ve seen my other babies thrive and show a lot of security that he didn’t. It does sting.

But I am glad we did it the way we did. First of all, no one is getting out of parenthood, childhood, or life in general, unscathed. We all learn from the hard things, and my son is most definitely OK. I find, too, that there is a tendency among parents today to wait until all the variables are just right to have their families, thereby potentially limiting their chances of conceiving, and how many children they will have. The fact is, I really wanted to be a mother and I got what I wanted at the age of 27. I am so grateful for that. And my son is an amazing person whom I would parent through any set of circumstances. He was born at the right time, and we took some lumps together.

This post doesn’t come to judge other mothers who work and are happy with that. I truly believe that parents and kids can thrive through all kinds of job schedules. My son and I just weren’t among them, and knowing that now is really just a gift. I can understand why I had such a hard time, and honor it now as I continue to spend most of my time at home with my kids. It’s also worth noting that I actually enjoy work — and I freelance. Being home full-time was, in many ways, a hard thing to learn for me as an extrovert who thrives on a daily routine. But I think it’s the less stressful and exhausting thing, and it works better for me and my kids.

I’d love to hear how work and parenthood have affected others. If you have a much different experience, or align with this, tell me about it!

Homeschool preschool? Why I’m considering it.

It’s the first week of October, which means I’ve had one child at home full-time for six weeks. The three oldest are in grade school. I tell everyone I see: I absolutely love this new pace!

My youngest child is a girl who will turn three in November and she’s the type of kid that just goes with the flow. If I want to work, she’ll paint quietly. She prefers independent play as long as I’m nearby. She won’t even let me read her books right now, as she’d rather “read” to herself.

This is a piece of cake for a mom who hasn’t had just one child in her care during the day in over seven years.

In light of my newfound freedom, I’m struck by something else that isn’t ruling my life: Preschool pickups and dropoffs! We’ve had kids in morning preschool for years, and I was looking forward to a break this year. Technically, the little one could attend, but that would put her on track for three years of preschool, which seemed like overkill. I’d like to keep a couple hundred dollars a month, too.

Now that I don’t have preschool in the schedule, I realize how much getting a child there and back three mornings a week was throwing a wrench in my days. It never felt like I had enough time while my older kids were there to get anything done, and running errands was always tight time-wise. I often ended up just wasting time those mornings and being exhausted from the to and fro (and I always run a few minutes late, which added to my stress.)

I am definitely into spoiling myself right now and always choosing the thing that is less stressful. But does that mean this preschool-free lifestyle should continue next year when my little girl is three? Is that selfish? Will she miss out?

Some rationalizations I have for choosing a homeschool preschool experience for #4 are:

• She has three older siblings, and neighbors; she’s around other kids a LOT
• She is super sharp and knows most of her basic preschool facts already
• She loves visiting the library and open gym and has plenty of opportunities to participate in group activities
• I have the time and focus to work on some preschool lessons with her

However, I admit that my older kids really enjoyed and benefitted from being part of a classroom before grade school began. I think it helped them give them a place outside of the home to belong to when things were busy and crazy here (Read: baby years and exhausted mother).

I know that there’s a lot of data that suggests kids who attend preschool perform better in school than those who do not. But there are a lot of factors that contribute to that and it seems that the behavioral effects of preschool may be what gives those students an edge. In our circumstances, I think academic performance is less of a concern. I also really believe kids’ aptitude for school is kind of what it is — not super malleable. I’ve observed this with my three older kids. Their strengths and challenges were evident before school began, and they performed pretty in line with what I observed about their little brains early on.

Still, I want my girl to enjoy her preschool years and make some friends. I’ll be wrestling with this question this year as I enjoy the slow pace we’re now at. If others have experiences with homeschool preschool, I’d love to hear about them. What did you do to make it fun and stimulating? Do you regret skipping preschool? I’d love curriculum tips, too!

Bus update: When your child is accused

There are a few things I’ve been wanting to write about since this school year began about six weeks ago, but I’ll start with the most dramatic: My child was accused of swearing on the bus!

In fact, my YOUNGEST school-aged child, my kindergartner, was accused of this offense, as WELL AS spitting at another student, whom he ALLEGEDLY swore at.

I’m not going to sit here and tell you that my kindergartner is pure as the driven snow. He’s the third child and has a tween brother. He’s heard a few choice words in his day. So when he got off the bus one day last week and crumbled in my arms in tears, barely getting the words out that the bus driver accused him of cursing, I thought to myself “YIKES, what did I say in front of him that he shared with the other 5-year-olds?!”

That’s right, I’m no angel either. I do not swear in front of the kids habitually, but I’ve slipped up a number of times. (Here’s my advice to the youngsters out there: Never start cursing because it’s a tough habit to break.) Between that and the YouTube shorts I’m constantly nagging my oldest child to turn off, I’d be surprised if my little guy didn’t know a swear or two.

But his defense seemed so PURE. With earnest eyes, he assured me he did NOT swear, and he appeared genuinely bewildered. “I didn’t say shut up! I didn’t say stupid! I didn’t say idiot!”

Ahhh, those are the swears he knows. I guess I’m doing OK after all!

The spitting he figured he did by mistake while he was talking to his seatmate.

I asked a few questions about what happened, and he truly seemed in the dark. So I told him maybe he said something that upset the other child (he is an instigator in the home) and that he needed to behave, but I would speak to the bus driver, and perhaps it was all just a misunderstanding.

The next morning, my son didn’t want to get on the bus, but I figured a little chat with Ms. Joanne would put him right at ease. Instead, Ms. Joanne confronted me with the news that another mother told her my son swore and spit at her child, and then she raised her eyebrows and just stared at me like I ought to be ashamed.

What, no benefit of the doubt?!

While I doubt my child did nothing, I figured since the driver didn’t see it, she’d recognise that perhaps the other child’s story wasn’t totally accurate either. I explained that he’s only five and I don’t think he even knows how to swear (somehow!). She just stared at me. Genuinely unsure what she wanted me to say, I did the mature thing: I suggested that next time, she ought to call ME if a parent complains, then I raised my eyebrows back at her! And then I called her boss and the school to complain that she accused a 5-year-old of swearing with no proof!

It felt good in the moment, but by mid-afternoon, the guilt had set in. I’ve had at least one kid on the bus for almost six years, and I know it’s a tough job to manage those kids. A lot happens, and I’ve been the scandalized mom of a kindergartner myself. While I am not sure why the driver confronted a 5-year-old with hearsay, I know I didn’t make the situation better by being snippy and reporting the situation to the driver’s boss. Surely that boss thought I was just another crazy mother, anyway.

Maybe I am.

I’m never proud when I act like a Mama Bear. I know that’s just animal instinct that should probably be checked. Yet something about seeing my teeny boy slump over in shame just got my blood boiling. I guess I’m not above a little visceral reaction, even as a seasoned bus mom.

I’m trying to figure out how to smooth things out with the bus driver, and I’m realizing that the bus continues to be a mixed bag in terms of benefits and drawbacks. If it’s not my child acting out, someone else is picking on one of my kids. My sister says she remembers her elementary school bus was like a war zone. I’m not sure it’s that bad, but the conflict is there.

In the end, I think it’s still a good opportunity to practice conflict resolution — and I’m not just talking about the kids!

How about you? Do you have any bus stories that raised your ire, or landed your kid in the hot seat?

Life is ordinary, the pictures weren’t great, so what?

The first day of school is in the rear-view mirror over here (though I am waiting to send off a kindergartener next week!) and the first couple of days were decidedly lackluster.

The weather was crummy. My kids had to stand under umbrellas in the pouring rain, waiting for the bus. My second-grader refused to smile for a photo, and everyone had frizzy hair. Then my oldest walked off the bus later in the afternoon looking glum. But it wasn’t a social catastrophe; he had a fever! You can’t make this stuff up!

I had been DYING for school to start but the mood was far from celebratory. Did I let this bother me? Nope.

OK, so I didn’t get my 7-year-old to smile, and my 10-year-old had to stay home for day-two of a new school year. So what? It dawned on me that, constantly armed with smartphone cameras and social media accounts that never close, we have an expectation that every first-day-of-whatever will be picturesque, and poignant.

But I don’t even remember my first day of second grade, or fifth. I remember my first days of kindergarten and first grade. That’s it.

It’s too much pressure to care this much about every first day of school, for both parents and kids. What must my kids be thinking when I insist, roughly once per week, that we are doing something momentous and whip out the iPhone? Well, some of them don’t mind, but I noticed my older two are more apt to balk than they used to be. For kids who have been photographed almost every day of their lives, they are surprisingly aware of how ANNOYING and UNNECESSARY it is.

Good for them! I just spent two hours on a free Sunday night, while most of my kids are camping with my husband, downloading roughly 400 photos from this summer — which, BTW, was remarkably ordinary. What a time suck! I don’t think I’ve ever been more jealous of my mom and her camera film, early 90s parenting life.

I am constantly moved by the lives of my children, but is all of it such a big deal? I know it isn’t.

I really want to embrace the truth: Life is very often ordinary. The pictures didn’t come out great. We didn’t need half as many as I took. The kids were grumpy and sick.

So what?

Summer life with the kids: Dialing it back

I wanted to share an update since my post from the first day of summer at home with my four kids. Even though I was intentional about scheduling camps and other activities while not overscheduling, I did find myself in a bit of a tizzy by the third week in July.

But it wasn’t just me who was sick of driving to and fro, and mentally juggling who needed what for food, drinks, apparel and rides. My 7-year-old daughter, the chill one of the bunch, was seriously acting out.

The back story is that she joined a competitive gymnastics team this summer, something she’d been pining for since she was in pre-K. Even though I generally turn up my nose at such commitments for young children, her drive and desire for this sport is genuine and we’d held her back in a pre-competitive class for a couple of years. It was time for her to try it.

However, being on a Junior Olympic gym team is a big commitment and she’s going through an adjustment period. Throw a week of basketball camp, visits with relatives and Vacation Bible School on top of it, and she hadn’t truly had a break since school got out. She reacted by OBSESSING about school, whether she had learned enough in Grade 1 and would learn what she needed to in Grade 2. Everything from telling time to “vowel teams,” as I guess they are called, was questionable. Did she remember how to do any of this? Would she? Would she know all she should when she grew up? The angst was real.

So what I did was, instead of doubling down on the summer “camps” I’d signed her up for at her school to help sharpen her math and reading skills (she did need some extra help this past year), I canceled all of it. I told her to stop thinking about school and start enjoying her summer. Any time she had a worry about school enter her mind, I advised her to tell herself to “Stop worrying, silly girl, and go have fun!”

There is so much information out there about how overscheduling children is harmful to them, and I know this, and yet in this culture, it is so hard NOT to do it. It made sense to sign her up for free math and reading camps, I thought. They were only 90 minutes per day, and each a week long. The other activities she’d participated in were good and fun things that she enjoyed.

And yet, they weren’t exactly restful.

Something I’m learning, and relearning and relearning, is that kids need to rest. They may love something with a passion that is hard to ignore, AND it might require a few too many hours in the gym per week. They may truly benefit from the spiritual formation offered by a church summer program, AND also come home cranky and lashing out (and not filled with the fruit of the spirit). They may sharpen their academic skills at school camps, AND be burned out.

It’s a fine line to walk, to reap the benefits of all that our society offers to kids of this generation, without overloading their little motherboards.

By the end of this month, when I saw my sweet girl cruising toward overload, I knew it was time to shut it down. I told her she didn’t have to go to reading camp this week, or math camp next week unless she wanted to. Guess what she chose?

I insisted he play, do her nails, read with me, watch Youtube kids. Be a kid. When we went to the library today, she dressed in her Cinderella costume — something she hadn’t done in a while. She played grocery store with her younger siblings.

She looked younger. She looked her age.

Mission accomplished.

The best toddler pajama hack of all time

OK, so this hack is only the best if you have a child who does what my toddler does: Removes pajamas and diaper, flings diaper across the room, and urinates in the crib.

YES, this is going to be a happy post!

Oddly, only my two daughters have done this super charming thing as toddlers. They are very civilized little people overall, especially compared to their two brothers (I mean, who puts snot on their walls on purpose?!).

For my older daughter, it was at age two that this behavior cropped up and my younger daughter is also two and peeing in her crib. Just when I thought I was done washing bed sheets on a daily basis!

But this time, I knew just what to do. Backward jammies!

I can’t take credit for this. Years ago, we had an unusually intuitive young woman as a nanny while I worked part-time and she is the one who first finagled this getup on my older girl. She learned this trick from her mom, I believe. You put the diaper and/or the jammies, on backward. Then they can’t take them off.

This only works with body suits, of course, and those with feet like the ones shown here are a bit tricky, because trying to shove toddler feet into backward footholes is a little perplexing. But it can be done! Footless would be better if you have them. Also, I find the backward diaper to be optional if you have the bodysuit jammies on backward.

My toddler complained that her jammies didn’t fit her, but she seemed to get over it and accept wearing them backward. When she got toothpaste and water down her front, I decided to change her into what was available, a nightgown. But then I put the diaper on backward! She again complained it didn’t fit, which must be toddler-speak for, “This is not comfy.”

But she got over it again, and went to bed.

Hopefully she won’t figure out a way to shimmy out of her diaper tomorrow morning before I can make my way in her room!

Let me know what your hacks are for keeping cribs clean when toddlers get creative.

Attention moms: Here’s your free pass for not showing up

I was the first person in my immediate circle to have children, including siblings and best friends, by a few years. So when my best friends and my sister got married, attending all their special events and helping them shop for dresses weren’t things I could just do on the fly. I had to be strategic about what I could attend and for how long. I tapped my foot after watching one friend try on her 15th gown. I insisted I could do one night away but not two for a bridal shower weekend.

I will forever remember tossing and turning the night before my sister’s wedding, listening to my oldest son talk to imaginary characters in his fever dreams. I talked to a triage nurse in the middle of the night who assured me it was a common symptom. I was terrified, and the next day I was to be a matron of honor, speech, and all. I felt guilty that I couldn’t quite shake concern for my son and be present as we got ready that morning.

My mom had surgery a week after I brought my second baby home from the hospital. It was all I could do to even find the entryway where she was waiting for me, in my postpartum haze. I got her home as soon as possible and say a quick goodbye. I couldn’t care for others at that moment, and I beat myself up about it.

While most of my family enjoyed traveling to a beautiful beach resort for another family wedding years later, I was beside myself bringing a feverish infant on an airplane during the second big wave of COVID-19. She had been teething or had some mild virus (not COVID) and I just wanted to go home with her. I couldn’t enjoy the experience and felt guilty for sharing my crankiness with my husband.

So much has happened for the people around me since I became a mom. I spent years feeling like a mediocre friend, sister, and daughter. It’s been one of the hardest aspects of motherhood to accept: I can’t do a whole lot beyond the essentials, and I’ve often taken more than I can give.

But in more recent years, I had a revelation. I have spent 10 years with human fledglings, and in that decade, I’ve needed a free pass. Not so much from others, but from myself.

I only started getting good at using my free pass after my fourth child was born, and I began to commit to very little. If there’s a party, I bring drinks. If there’s an event, I don’t volunteer my time. If socializing is inconvenient, I don’t do it. Barring emergencies, I don’t often offer extra help to my friends or family.

Sounds harsh, feels amazing.

My children are a gift to me; they’re also a serious responsibility. If there’s a risk of anything, it’s that I’ve done too much for other causes and not given myself the free pass I absolutely needed many times. No guilt, no ruminating on what others thought of me. And to be sure, others haven’t always been happy with me. No matter. I get a free pass, and so do you.

Free. Pass.

There are so many ways that being a mother to young kids is a grind, and to make it tolerable, I believe it is crucial to zero in on your essential functions, like caring for your kids, loving your spouse and holding down a job if you have one — and to shed other commitments like you’re a golden retriever losing his coat in July. (This simile is relevant in my home right now.)

This necessary self-interest needn’t be unkind; most of the people who matter to you understand (usually). You can offer encouragement, and companionship and share humor with your friends and family. That is what so much of relationships is really about anyway, right?

But the meal trains, the potlucks, the volunteering, and the grand social plans — those things will be waiting for you in another season. Then you can bless other mothers with the free pass you’re holding now.

The Summer of Us

Fun for parents is hard to manage, but so worth it!

Several years ago, a friend told me she and her husband went on a day date while their two kids were at summer day camp, and I was awestruck.

“You mean, you and your husband had happy hour on a patio on a Friday afternoon? Alone?”

Yes. Yes, they did.

She had two kids to my three, and they were both camp-age. I was excited that I, too, might one day join the ranks of parents who do fun stuff together on beautiful summer days.

It would be a while. I ended up having another baby, and this summer, she’s two-and-a-half. With the older kids away at their grandparents’ house for a week of camp, and two younger kids able to spend a couple of nights with my mom, it was time to kick off what I am calling, The Summer of Us.

I questioned whether two days on nearby Cape Cod was worth the hassle. Packing six people at once is tedious, and I always get myself into a cleaning frenzy when it’s time to travel. We had to pay over $100 to board our dog for 48 hours. I also had to rebook everything last minute when my husband’s work schedule got busy.

I was left wondering, “Why bother?”

As soon as we dropped our second pair of kids off at their grandparents, I remembered. Just the hour-and-fifteen-minute car ride was a reverie. Then, moments after we checked in to our little inn, my husband demanded we go buy ice cream. Immediately.

We walked across the street to the well-placed parlor, ordered two overpriced cones, and enjoyed that sweet sugary goodness without having to wipe anyone’s face or clean up drips from little fingers once. We laughed at how jealous our kids would be that we skipped lunch and had ice cream instead. We rejoiced that we paid $14 instead of our usual $35 for a round of cones for the family. My husband said we’d get more ice cream the next day at our favorite local place. He was really letting loose!

We are easy to please, I know. But really, I love that about being a parent of a bunch of kids. We enjoy our time alone together SO much. It is precious. And that’s why trips and day dates are a priority for us this summer. I know we’ll enjoy them to the max, and why should kids be the only ones to savor summer?

This trip, we did all the things we did when we were dating, engaged, and newly married. We took a long bike ride, we ate delicious food at restaurants, we walked along the beach, we stayed up watching a movie for grownups. We woke up when we wanted to; yes it was before 9 a.m., but we aren’t 22 anymore.

It was our first trip away together in a couple of years, so it was long overdue. Parental burnout is real. Sometimes, it’s nice to remember why we even ended up having all those kids together in the first place.

We might not get away for another night alone together until next year, but I have big plans to take a canoe trip while the big kids are at camp and the little ones play at grandma’s house. It’s just one of many activities we do with our kids that miss the mark of total success, because there’s always someone who isn’t fully on board. Pun intended.

We take it in stride, but I think we should take the hint and leave them out of it sometimes.

May this be our first of many Summers of Us.

Summer rules for kids: Boundaries are key

Summer vacation rules for kids keep everyone happy.

Rules are really important but enforcing them can be really hard. Especially during summertime when there’s a lot of togetherness. Today was our first full day of summer vacation after a half day of school yesterday. It was a long day but it was fairly smooth.

My anxious tendency is to stage a big family meeting and lay out the ground rules before the first day of vacation arrives. But I know that approach is often ineffective. This summer, I felt I needed to take a more relational approach.

I decided not to print a list of rules and post them on the walls in a few visible places around the house. I knew they’d tear and curl and half of my kids can’t read anyway. Instead, I chose to ease into it, taking behavior as it comes.

We are all burned out from the school routine, and I figured we would enjoy a low-key day on the first full day of summer vacation. If the day ended up a bit of a mess in terms of discipline, I could live with it.

Screentime limits

The biggest item in need of regulation for our family, like most, is screen time. As I tucked my older kids in on the night of the last day of school, I gently told them they wouldn’t be hopping on mom’s laptop or the Nintendo Switch at 7 a.m. like they’re allowed to do on Saturday mornings. I suggested that everyone was really tired and needed extra rest, so we’d talk about screen time options after 9 a.m. Surprisingly, they didn’t fight me. They really were that tired.

The next day, I tied the start of screentime to a few key metrics. They must have eaten, brushed teeth, gotten dressed, made the bed and let the neighbor’s chickens out of their coop (we are chickensitting). Next week I’ll think of another quick chore when we no longer have chickens to watch. Then, as long as it’s not too early — before 8 a.m. — they get their morning screen hour.

My guess is they will find reasons to lounge in bed, read or whatever else rather than pop out of bed at dawn with this system in place. This is my masterplan.

NOM NOM NOM

The next big challenge is snack time. It seems that any time is snack time when you have kids. Bored? Have a snack. Mad at your sister? Have a snack. Just eat lunch? Snacktime! Dinner on the stove? Grab a cheese stick!

NOT OK.

Between their ability to ransack the pantry in 24 hours, the snack litter and crumbs on counters and end tables, and the constant interruption caused by requests for sustenance, snacks may well be my undoing this summer if I am not careful. I didn’t do an awesome job of sticking to our two-snack policy today, but a mid-morning and mid-afternoon nibble will be the standard around here, save for the odd popsicle on a hot day.

Sibling relations

We take a hardline against physical aggression between brothers and sisters in this home, so I nipped a few altercations in the bud with some good, old-fashioned stern talk and threats to revoke screen privileges. What’s harder to bear is the constant tension between siblings who play nicely for 15 minutes, fight, cry, and come running to me. Repeat on loop.

Aggression aside, the rule here is, they need to figure it out on their own! It’s hardest for me to follow this rule. I clench my teeth and wait for the next squabbling interruption. I make a casual suggestion or two and resume what I’m doing. If absolutely necessary, I mediate a discussion. Otherwise, conflict resolution is a life skill and I can’t be dragged into this stuff.

Chores

We’ve assigned chores to our older kids for quite a while, but the house gets messier when we are all here and if I didn’t assign additional chores, I’d spend the whole day picking up after everyone. I knew I’d face a battle — especially with our routine-minded oldest — if I assigned new daily chores, so I buried the lead.

I asked kids to help around the house throughout the day, and I was met with surprisingly little resistance. My older daughter cleaned all the glass doors; my son handled his laundry and took care of the dog when asked. As long as this cooperation continues, I won’t bother with any sort of chore chart. (Speaking of that, does anyone else find things like chore charts and checklists cumbersome? I don’t find it helpful to have one more thing to do — check off a list, remind kids to check off a list, etc.)

Summer reading and more

My kids are still pretty young, so we don’t have a lot of summer reading or other mandatory projects to take care of this summer. But my daughter needs to practice math and reading and my son needs to practice his saxophone (he’ll read on his own without prompting). I considered a weekly schedule for this, but like the rest, I’m going to test out a laid-back approach — inviting them to sit with me and read or do a worksheet the school provided during quiet times. I hope this is enough.

Truly, I believe their brains need to rest over the summer. I read somewhere that the rest period is actually essential for absorbing all they have learned and priming their brains for more learning in the fall.

Fun

To be honest, this is the first summer in a long time where I feel like we might actually have a lot of fun.

Let me rephrase: It’s the first summer where I might have a lot of fun. It seemed for several years I had only very young children, was juggling a baby and a toddler, could hardly take my eyes off one to watch the others jump off the dock or do a handstand in the water. I was stressed and frazzled and sleep deprived all the time. I didn’t have energy to calmly enforce boundaries, much less have a sense of adventure.

This year, I sense, will be different. My oldest is in the double digits, my 7-year-old girl is a blast, our 5-year-old is pretty capable, and everyone helps keep an eye on the toddler. Oh, and my mom is now retired, so I have a buddy to bring along with us to the lake, museums, playgrounds and the ice cream shop.

This rule is for me: Say “yes” to more outings, more fun projects at home, and more lemonade stands. Enjoy the peak childhood years with the kids that remind me so much of my own.

I’m not taking a family vacation this summer, and I’m OK with that

I foresee many summer days and evenings on our patio, which isn’t quite this fancy but it’s close!

A staycation isn’t my first choice, but in a year when we took a big spring trip as a family, are trying to furnish a new home, and got slammed with medical and dental bills in the second quarter, it turns out that it’s the right one for us this summer.

And even though I’ve been a little disappointed, I realize I am also relieved.

I actually LOVE family vacations. Most of ours take place in our native New England, and there is plenty to do here. We love Cape Cod above all, but we’ve done our share of lake and mountain vacations too. We generally take a week every summer to rent a house either at the Cape where I spent most of my childhood summers, or in Northern Vermont where I spent a small stint of my childhood.

The recurring theme here is my childhood, it’s true. My parents were very good at getting away and passed that knack on to me, and it turns out that my husband is eager to come along for the ride and mostly lets me pick and plan our trips. Everyone is happy.

So this year, I have some anxiety about not booking a weekly summer retreat. I hate to miss out on something we enjoy and my kids have been vocal about feeling let down too. My five-year-old was pining for a ferry ride to Martha’s Vineyard, and a stay at a small cottage on the Cape the other day. Ouch!

But there are some upsides here, too.

I think most parents of young children agree that vacations are a ton of work. The packing, the logistics of pet care, the finding of provisions upon arrival, and the settling in. The first night is always a total loss in terms of restful sleep. No one stays where they’re supposed to; we can never get the air conditioning or fan situation just right, and children are up at dawn demanding to go to the beach. If we’re lucky, subsequent nights are better for sleeping, but learning the way around a home, especially a kitchen, is harder when you’re wrangling your children. The game of musical bedrooms generally continues until the middle of the week. Maybe by the fifth night, you’re comfortable, and by then, the trip is winding down.

What I’m saying is, I like vacations but they’re a huge pain and maybe taking a summer off will make me appreciate them more.

I know I will want to get back to our summer retreat next year, but for now, I am actually looking forward to not packing a family of six for a week away. This will be our first full summer in a new house and it has ample outdoor living spaces and a sunroom that spills onto the beautifully landscaped stone patio area. There is a wooded area set back on a hill on the rear of the property with a hammock and picnic table — it feels like a campsite. And we have a large, screened-in gazebo perfect for evening lounging.

Our kids also have a few camps they’ll attend, and their beloved grandma is presently moving to the next town over, so they’re thrilled to spend time at her new home.

There are plenty of reasons that summer won’t be so bad right in our own backyard.

Last year, we booked our summer beach vacation before we knew when we’d move to our new house. As it turned out, we closed barely two weeks before our trip dates and we were unable to change them with the house booked solid through July and August. It wasn’t ideal to pack up after packing and moving our entire lives, but I figured there were worse things than having to take a vacation after a stressful move.

Things got a little dicier when a major family event was planned for the first day of our trip, but we decided that at least some of us would try to make that before we all descended on Cape Cod about 90 minutes southeast of our home.

Then on the morning of a departure, our oldest woke up with terrible stomach pain which turned out to be appendicitis. The diagnosis was confirmed during the family event, and I scrambled to get to the hospital and relieve my husband moments before surgery. I spent the first night of our vacation on a fold-out bed next to my recovering son.

Thankfully, he came through well and we were allowed to bring him to the Cape to recover. I tried to take it all in stride but by the middle of the week, when he was able to walk around, we made the mistake of taking the whole gang to a nearby island by ferry on the hottest day of the year. The kids have good memories but there were moments he was too fatigued to walk and by the time we were disembarking on the mainland, I had a hissy fit as I struggled to get our massive stroller onto an elevator — and now my older daughter is strangely terrified of ferries.

Vacations are stressful, there’s no doubt. That one may have been more fraught than average, but now I recall that two years earlier, when I was 7 months pregnant, the fridge in our rental kept breaking and there was also an issue with the upstairs shower flooding the bathroom. It feels like it’s always something.

Home is much less a mystery, and being a parent is already mysterious enough. The kids will surely do and experience a range of things that won’t always be pleasant this summer, but I know the bed is comfortable and the major appliances seem to work. I know where the forks are and the pantry is well stocked, and Grandma is just a few miles down the road.

I need stability and rest after last summer’s move, not to mention the COVID baby and pandemic lifestyle preceding that.

Perhaps a summer staycation will be my very own luxury retreat this year.