First off, let me check my mommy privilege–I stay home with my kids by choice (though I could go into a lengthy diatribe about how in an ideal world I could seamlessly work part-time utilizing state-subsidized child care a la any number of Northern European countries). We can afford for me to do that, and it’s something I feel very fortunate to do at this stage of life. So right off the bat, please know that when I talk about jam-packed summer schedules, I’m not pointing a finger at parents who have their kids enrolled in camps all summer so that they can go to work each day. Actually, I’m not pointing a finger at anybody, regardless of employment status. I’m basically just sitting here writing about my own lazy, Type B approach to summer because in most ways I am a Type B parent (not as sure about the lazy part).
Good. So now that that’s out of the way, can I just say that the flurry of spring activity devoted to placing kids in summer enrichment classes and camps completely stresses me out? The Facebook mom forum questions start to trickle in sometime around the middle of January, gather steam in February and March, and reach a tardy fevered pitch in April. “What is everyone signing their kids up for this summer?” “Best sports camps for a 3-year-old?” “Did I miss the registration deadline???” Even casual playground or school pick-up conversations veer into this territory as summer looms.
When asked what my kids are doing over the summer, my answer is, “not much.” For one thing, at almost seven and almost four, they’re too young to get summer jobs (and their work ethic is appalling). Plus, neither one of them is a musical or sports prodigy, requiring an intensive summer practice season to further hone their skills. Then there’s the fact that most summer days I can’t get one or the other to brush their hair, wear appropriate shoes, or put on pants. But most of all it’s because the one thing that drives me crazy and drives my kids crazy is rushing to get somewhere. Rushing is pretty much status quo when you have little kids incapable of deciphering the phrase “we’re leaving in FIVE minutes–where did you put your shoes?!” But during the school year, it’s a necessary state of being because elementary school is mandated by law and part-time preschool is mandated by me. Summer on the other hand? Please don’t make me leave the house until at least 10 a.m. In fact, if I’m really lucky, the neighbor kids will be buzzing around and we might not have to leave all day!
Does that thought fill you with horror? A few years ago when I had a young preschooler and a baby and lived in a neighbors-with-kids dead zone, it would have filled me with horror too. Back then I had my daughter signed up for play camp at her preschool every single day of every session so that I could attempt to get things done or nap with the baby. And we went to the park or scheduled play dates at every opportunity because I was my daughter’s only playmate and it was exhausting. But now that we’re on the other side of diapers and nap schedules and finally, blessedly, moved to a street with other kids and at-home parents to help watch the roving gang of wee ones, I kind of just want to sit in the grass with my neighbors, watching the kids create elaborate forts out of patio furniture and beach towels. Did I already check my privilege? Again, so, so fortunate that this is the set-up I’m working with. Also, I have no family even remotely nearby, so depending on my neighbors and other mom friends is absolutely essential to my life right now.
But it’s not just me who is lucking out in this laid-back, home-centric summer scheme. Without the demands of school schedules and cold-weather desperation activities (gymnastics, check), my kids will get to wallow in something I think is absolutely fundamental to their ability to learn, develop socially and generally be content: uninterrupted play. My daughter was (again) lucky enough to attend preschool at the School for Young Children in Columbus. The school is unique in its headstrong, unapologetic devotion to free play as pedagogy. As a new parent I found their approach intuitive, and now that we’re a few years removed from it and involved in traditional schooling, I find it incredibly refreshing. Their “play is the work of childhood” motto is always floating there somewhere beneath the surface of my day-to-day parenting and kid-related decision making. Maybe that motto is why I’m so happy to forgo all of the day camps and lessons in favor of lemonade stands, mud baths and water gun battles. Or, like I said, maybe I’m just lazy.
What I do know is that when I think back to my happiest memories of childhood, they don’t involve being driven to activity after activity by my parents. In fact, most of them don’t involve my parents at all (sorry Mom and Dad). There’s me lying in a patch of sweet-smelling tiny white flowers (clover?) in the field behind my friend’s house in Helotes, Texas. There’s filling baskets with hundreds of possibly poisonous red berries, wrapped in my mom’s cast-off 1980s dresses, pretending to be Anne of Green Gables with my sister and next-door neighbor. There’s creating impromptu musicals and performing them for our parents; riding bikes (unchaperoned) around the far reaches of the small university campus we lived down the street from; collecting tadpoles from a stream on said university’s campus, bringing them home and watching them turn into impossibly tiny black frogs; getting ordered out of the university’s gloriously inviting decorative fountain on multiple occasions by campus police, but always going back for more (Trinity University in San Antonio, Texas, in case anyone’s curious. It’s lovely).
While my kids are growing up in a neighborhood, city and state very different from those of my childhood, I can only hope that their memories will be as sweet. So that’s why I’m doing my part to do nothing this summer, and for as many summers as they’ll allow it. Bring on the beach towel forts!
My husband and I both work outside of the home and this is our first summer without a nanny because both of our kids were in school during the year. We were part of the mad rush to sign up for camps–not because we want our kids to be enriched, but because we don’t have 10 weeks of vacation to take with them. What you write about above describes the summers I had as a kid–and trust me, I’m heartbroken and feel like I’m letting my kids down by not being able to provide the same for them. Your summer sounds awesome. I’m pretty anxious about ours.
Susan, thanks for the comment! My heart breaks hearing about your anxiousness and wondering if this post of mine has contributed to it, even a little. I tried to make it clear that I was in no way intending to shame parents for any summer plans, whether selected by choice or out of necessity. I know if I was working that my kids would be in the best, most super-enriching camps money could buy (or I could afford) and they would probably have a blast. But since I’m not, and, frankly, the summer is a nice break from the costs of preschool, I’m trying to feel ok about not shelling out for the cool camps this year. That said, my daughter is going to Girl Scout day camp one week and taking swimming lessons through the rec center, and my son is doing a preschool VBS. So perhaps I’m not as laid-back as I make out. 😉
I think in writing this post I was speaking more to my own inner critic who wonders if I should utilize the time off school to let my kids explore their interests in structured activities/camps more than they could do during the year (to which I’m saying “no”). We’re just doing the best we can with our unique situations, right? You sound like a fabulous mom and I know your kids will have a fun-filled summer. 🙂
Comments are closed.