Summer... is here, now what.

This Story Problem Was Definitely Not on the Final Exam

I don’t remember this one being in the math workbook.

A year ago, I wrote a post about what may be the world’s most impossible story problem:

How do we work, supervise our kids, keep them happy, and somehow survive ten weeks of summer break?

As I sit here once again surrounded by calendars, camp registrations, spreadsheets, and an alarming amount of anxiety, I realized this post is just as relevant today as it was then.

If you’re feeling excited for summer and completely overwhelmed by it at the same time, this one’s for you.

(And if you’ve actually figured out the answer to this story problem, please show your work.)

I don’t remember this one being in the math workbook.

How do we balance working, keeping our kids supervised and reasonably happy, while school is out for ten whole weeks?

You start researching camps, hoping to piece together something that resembles childcare. Most start after the workday begins and end before it does. Add in transportation, late fees, and the cost of keeping kids entertained all summer, and suddenly you’re solving a math problem no one taught you in school.

Could you work less in the summer? Maybe. But summer is often more expensive than the school year. Camps cost money. Activities cost money. Food somehow costs more money. And if you’re lucky enough to enjoy your work, you may not want to cut back.

This isn’t just a scheduling problem. It’s a stress-inducing puzzle that working parents are somehow expected to solve every year.

If you’re here looking for answers, I’m sorry to disappoint you. I don’t have them.

What I do have is solidarity.

I struggle with my feelings about summer. I love the long evenings, the beach, the flowers, the sunsets, and not wearing socks. I want to live in that version of summer.

Reality looks a little different.

Every May, I feel relief that another school year is ending. No more lunches, permission slips, parent apps, homework reminders, or dragging teenagers out of bed in the morning.

But the relief is short-lived.

Because kids and teens still need structure, activity, socialization, and things to do besides scrolling, gaming, and asking what’s for dinner.

So every year I make calendars. I build spreadsheets. I research camps. I convince myself that this year I’ve finally figured it out.

And every year I discover I haven’t.

I still have weeks with nothing planned. I still worry about my kids. I still worry about work. I still worry about whether I’m doing enough.

So I’ll do what most parents do.

Take it one week, one day, and sometimes one hour at a time.

I never solved the summer story problem.

Maybe it isn’t solvable.

Thankfully, it’s 87 degrees today, and we’ll be spending the evening at the beach.

If you enjoyed this blog, be sure to check out some of my other pieces about summer below.