Written by Brogan Rossi
There I was in January (cold, crusty, still half-brained from the holiday madness) when I saw a mom on Instagram talking about summer camp sign-ups.
SUMMER CAMP. In January.
I’m sorry, but I’m a type B mom (arguably a type Z), and I can barely commit to a playdate next week, let alone make logistical decisions for something happening five months from now.
But suddenly, it was everywhere. Moms around me plotting spreadsheets and color-coded calendars. Weekly camp rotations. Coordinated snacks. Pinterest-level preparedness. And there I was, holding a stale granola bar and thinking, How do people live like this?
Here’s the thing. I have three little kids. Ages 1, 3, and 5.
Summer break, in theory, should sound magical. Bare feet, sprinkler runs, popsicles on the porch. In reality? It felt like a logistical Rubik's cube with a soundtrack of sibling fights and someone always needing a snack.
The idea of weekly camps (with three kids in three different age brackets) sounded like a high-stakes episode of Survivor. All I could picture was spending my summer driving in a loop of drop-offs and pickups while hemorrhaging money and sanity.
So I started exploring the nanny route, because consistency sounded like the dream. But then I had that moment where you're staring at the projected cost and wondering if you should just sell a kidney. Also, the stress of finding someone you trust with your babies?? It’s enough to make you cancel the whole thing and just wing it with screen time and Goldfish.
And then (grace of all graces) a friend found a nanny, and we joined in on a share. And even that is complicated! Short days. Drop-offs. Balancing it all. This morning, she texted, “I’m feeling some guilt about her being in care all day,” and my husband said something that stopped me in my tracks: “We’ll have plenty of time with them to enjoy the summer, quality over quantity.”
And man, yes. That’s the thing we all need to remember. We’re putting so much pressure on ourselves to give our kids the “best summer ever,” with packed schedules and magical moments and endless energy. And for what? So they can look back and remember us…overstimulated and exhausted?
Let’s be real: the summer doesn’t have to be this glittering pedestal of perfection.
It’s not our sole job to entertain, organize, feed, drive, fund, photograph, and emotionally support our children through an entire season of unscheduled chaos. Summer isn’t supposed to be one big performance. And actually, it’s not even good for them to have every second planned and perfect.
Boredom is good.
Slow mornings are good.
Running barefoot until bedtime? So good.
This year, I’m letting go of the pressure. I’m leaning into community. I’m saying yes to help, yes to care, yes to grilled dinners and barefoot sprints up and down the block. We’ll have moments (the little ones, the real ones) that actually feel like summer.
Not because we planned them, but because we made space for them.
