The first three got the stay-at-home mom. The fourth got the sequel.
I'm writing this from a booth at Dave & Buster's. My youngest, Smith, is off with a friend playing overpriced games. Before this, we went mini bowling and then had fast food for lunch. I've overpaid for all of it, but I've been trying to cram a SUPER FUN summer into a handful of Friday afternoons. School starts next week, so today is extra obnoxious. Why? Because I've carried some guilt around all summer:
Smith's summers look different than his siblings' did. I stopped being a full-time stay-at-home mom when Smith was three.
Let's back up.
I was a stay-at-home mom for almost 11 years. My husband traveled a lot, so the kids and I loosely "planned" our days outside the house. I'm a Type B mom through and through, which is an excellent personality type for summer. So my three oldest remember a mom who had nothing but time. Pool dates. Zoo adventures. Pepperwood Park on repeat. Lunch? Whatever I could throw in the cooler five minutes before we left.
We just went.
And I loved it. I loved those years and that version of our family. I didn't spend them wishing I was somewhere else.
But at 37, I decided to start building a career and discovered there was another version of me I loved, too. I loved using a different part of my brain. I loved finding out what I was capable of outside of motherhood. But building a career also meant working a few hours a day during the summer. It meant fewer spontaneous lake days and more, "We'll do something fun on Friday."
And there it was: cue the guilt.
Which is funny, because when I stayed home, I carried a different kind of guilt. I had a master's degree and a skill set I knew I was good at, arguably much better at than keeping a tidy house or remembering when library books were due. Maybe that's the trap. Women went from being told to lean in, build the career and become the She Boss to an endless stream of sourdough starters and Trad Wife content reminding us how beautiful it is to slow down and stay home. I've basically lived both. And apparently the prize for either choice is wondering if you chose wrong.
What a scam.
Because here's what I know: Smith is happy. His summer wasn't worse. It was different. And so is his mom.
The older kids got a younger me with endless summer days. Smith gets a mom who is more confident and more fulfilled. I also know how fast this goes now, and I don't take our time for granted. My job isn't to give four children the exact same version of me. I couldn't if I tried. But they all got a mom who absolutely loves being their mom.
Next week, when Smith's teacher asks about his summer, I know he'll say it was a great one. And I'm done questioning whether he's right. He's happy. He's a mama's boy through and through.
Something's working
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Wise Mom Summer Hack: Backyard League
One thing the older, wiser version of me did figure out this summer: you don't have to entertain your kids all day for them to have a great summer.
I organized Backyard League with Smith's friends. Three days a week, the boys rotated between houses for a few hours.
Backyard League Rules: stay outside, figure out what to do yourselves, and the hosting mom provides water and popsicles. That's it. Just a little old-school '90s summer magic where kids entertain themselves.
The boys loved it. The moms loved it. So I'm sharing the details in case you want to steal it for next summer.
I made a simple signup families used to claim hosting days.
Copy it. Send it to your mom friends. Provide the popsicles and call it good parenting.
See? Older. Wiser. More efficient.
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Sarah Hart
Midwestern born and raised. Enneagram 8. I love traveling, lifelong friendships and Court TV. Currently juggling five group chats, one book club and four kids. I rarely say no to an adventure and never to a glass of champagne.
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