Dear End of Summer Mom

Dear End of Summer Mom,

I see you.

I see you struggling.

I see you trying to be creative and fun and each day, working hard to maintain the energy of perfection required to “savor the moment.”

I see you trying to be the good mom who speaks in level tones and use words like “unacceptable” and “better choices” when I know what you really want to do is drop everything and scream at your children in the middle of that store where their dramatic re-enactment of “Fight Club” left you feeling defeated and embarrassed.

I see you hiding in the closet crying because you’ve put everyone else’s needs before your own for 2 straight months and no one, and I mean NO ONE, says thank you.

I see you making peanut butter sandwich after peanut butter sandwich after peanut butter sandwich and wondering how you managed to grow yourself a few more kids to feed each day.

I see you asking yourself why it seems like everyone else is better at this thing than you are.

I see you pouring your third cup of coffee, hoping beyond hope to make it to the end of this one before it gets cold.

I see you daydreaming about empty nest season and wondering if it’s really all that bad to send your kids to boarding school.

I see you weighing the pros and cons of the Netflix babysitter and the Fortnite Nanny.

I see you trying not to give in to your child who has somehow turned into a mini-terrorist in the checkout lane of Target, holding fast to that $2 mini-Lego set. (seriously, Target, is just one lane without candy and junky toys too much to ask?)

I see you struggling to keep your composure through 57 “I’m boreds” a day.

I see you counting minutes, seconds, and milliseconds until your husband walks in the door. 

I see you googling things like ” is juvey free” and “pros and cons of year-round school.”

I see you stuffing down your feelings and staying silent because you don’t think anyone else, least of all your husband, will understand.

I see you trying hard to hide your relief as you spy the “back to school” ads in the Sunday paper.

I see you pondering the messes in your house that just never end and pining for the days when you can actually clean a room, uninterrupted (and then wondering if you really are insane for wishing you had time to clean.)

I see you fighting the urge to spend all day staring at Instagram, knowing that it will ultimately make you feel worse as you scroll through picture after picture of everyone else’s perfect summers. But God bless it, at least it’s an momentary escape.

And mostly I see you struggling through intense guilt.

Guilt because you don’t think it’s as hard for other mothers.

It is.

Guilt because you feel like everyone is having more fun than you.

They aren’t.

Guilt because you think your friends have better attitudes and more patience.

They don’t.

Guilt because you have labeled yourself a bad mom.

You aren’t.

Moms, I see you. I want you to know that you are not alone. This season (and that’s just what it is, a season) is tough. It’s so very hard. It’s non-stop, no break, full-on togetherness, 100% of the time. It’s pressure to be adventurous and manufacture memories so your children don’t feel left out and neglected during those inevitable “tell us about your summer vacation” conversations on the first day of school. It’s the notion that if you aren’t coordinating their entire social schedule, day by day, you’ve ruined their summer. It’s buying into the idea that being a good mom means being Mother Theresa, Martha Stewart and June Cleaver all in one. It’s enough fighting and bickering to drive anyone to drink.

It’s tough. For ALL OF US. Despite what Facebook wants you to believe, we’re all limping to the finish line. We’re all ready to pass the baton back to fall.

What we all need right now is one thing: GRACE.

Grace when you’re hiding from your kids.

Grace when you feel like you’re going to lose it.

Grace when time slows to a crawl and you can’t wait for your husband to get home.

GRACE.

Grace for you and Grace for those kiddos. Because they need it just as much as you do right now.

You’re almost there. You’re doing great.

Give yourself the gift of grace.

And coffee. Lots and lots of coffee. We’re almost there. 

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