“I really hate writing anything that divides ‘working’ and ‘stay at home’ moms — both using air quotes because we all work hard and we all care for our homes. But there is one season that really brings out my working mom guilt — and, hint-hint, it’s the same as swimsuit season, which is just plain unfair. Summer!
Have you heard? Summer’s coming! The teachers are counting down, the students are hyping up, the pools are about to open, and everyone’s ready for some good summer fun!
Everyone except those of us who don’t get a break.
We have been scrambling to find childcare coverage for the summer months, and overpaying for summer camps that look really fun to compensate for the guilt of not giving our kids a break for the summer. The daily grind to get up, ready, and out the door is a 12-month marathon over here, and the faint tune of the ice cream truck on a Tuesday afternoon is all the gut-punch it takes to make my eyes swell with tears.
Because my mom stayed home most of my childhood, I remember lazy mornings being able to bum around, and roaming the neighborhood until the street lights came on. There was a certain carefreeness that came along with the extra hours of sunshine, calming chirp of grasshoppers and glow of lightning bugs that I long for my kids to experience. Not that they don’t experience any of it, we definitely reduce our activities schedule during the summertime to allow for more outdoor, unstructured time, and spend most of our weekends poolside.
Alas, the daily hustle prevails.
This year, we will happily and as carefree-ly as possible continue to wake up, brush our teeth, brush our hairs, get dressed and head to school, daycare, and camps with the joy of summer in our smiles, and the pang of monotony in our meltdowns. We will be grateful for jobs we love and extra thankful when the weekend rolls around. If you’re with me mama — your heart filled with a dash of sadness and the twinge of FOMO (fear of missing out) as summer quickly approaches — I really have nothing but this statement of solidarity. You are not alone, and we can do hard things.
I wish you weeknights on the driveway, weekends at the pool, and a margarita with your name on it every Friday at 5.”
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