Photo by MI PHAM on Unsplash.
Sometimes it feels like they put together a plot against you, doesn’t it?
The memes.
The TikToks.
The reels.
The influencer posts.
It’s like they’re on a year-round group text conspiring to make sure you can never stop evaluating “what type” of mom you are.
It’s Fall? Well, here’s a barrage of content to force you to decide whether you should go on a Pinterest-picture-worthy pumpkin patch adventure … or trust that it’s OK if all you have in you this year is the energy to snag a pumpkin from the bin outside the grocery store.
Oh, it’s the holidays now? Here are back-to-back reels — one convincing you that this is the year you’re going to drop expectations and just let the memories happen… and the next one reminding you that you only have so many years when the kids have a certain type of reaction on Christmas morning, so you better make it good, Mom.
And now it’s your little one’s birthday? Here’s an Instagram story from your friend who threw her daughter a themed party in her living room, and here’s a post that reminds you it’s OK if you just go out to your local ice cream shop for a treat.
And when that algorithm can smell that you JUST MIGHT BE ignoring all of their noise and starting to focus on being the mom that you authentically are, they amp up the this-or-that content and send you back into a state of questioning again.
Sound familiar? My guess is you’re feeling ALL of that right now with THIS being one of those seasons when the conflicting messages start coming at you about what kind of “summer mom” you’re going to be.
I know I started to feel it a few weeks ago. And even after 13.5 years of navigating this parenting thing, and EVEN after reminding myself to stay centered because I knew the content was coming, I found myself starting to panic.
Have I planned enough?
Have I planned too much?
Will I end up working too much?
Will I work enough?
Should I make a bucket list?
Should I just let them learn to make fun out of boredom?
But just as quickly as I fell into the trap, I crawled right back out. I remembered that over all of my summer seasons as a parent, I have at some point been every “summer mom” of which social media paints a picture.
I’ve been the summer mom who takes her kids on a fun vacation (or even two!), and I’ve also been the one who didn’t go on a single one because we needed to save money that year. I’ve been the summer mom who piles all the neighborhood kids into my car to go on a hike in the woods, and I’ve been the one who sent mine off with another mom because I was too slammed at work.
I’ve been the summer mom who packs a blanket and a lunch and takes them to a park for a picnic, and I’ve been the one so tired I’ve told them to just dig through the fridge and the pantry to make their own lunches. I’ve been the summer mom who believes that it’s healthy for kids to be a little bored, and I’ve also been the one who silently guilts herself for not being intentional enough to plan more memories.
I’ve been ALL of them. Because the truth is, my life has looked differently every summer.
My kids have been at different ages and levels of independence.
My financial status has varied.
My work has demanded different levels of attention.
My mental health has floated on opposing sides of the track.
But you know what’s been constant? I have done the absolute best I could with what I had.
And guess what? My kids have all come out OK.
Sure, learning how to make simple fun out of boredom or learning to make their own mac-and-cheese might not be as fun to them as going to a roller coaster park or a day trip exploring nature.
But I hope one day when they look back through an adult lens at their childhood summers, they’ll appreciate the memories made and the lessons learned no matter what kind of summer mom I was in that season.
And I’ll be at peace knowing I didn’t give them the kind of summer the algorithm cohort told me to, but instead… I loved them hard through whatever kind of summer they had.
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