When a friend posted a story on her Facebook page “We Only Have 18 Summers With Our Kids,” it really got to me.
It was the onset of summer. I was feeling beaten down by the repetitive schedule of “Married Life With Kids.” Getting up early, shouting for kids to get ready for school, fighting traffic to and from work, picking up kids from school, and the endless questions, “Mommy, what are we doing now?” Trying to put an edible dinner together before crashing on the couch ahead of a highly-efforted Netflix binge. Another night of falling asleep before 10:30 p.m., disappointing myself and my night owl husband.
It was an endless cycle, and we were both ready for a change in the routine.
So we discussed a long summer in Israel where we are both from and still have family. I had a week of work traveling the country to kick start the trip, and we’d spend the rest of the time enjoying a very long care-free summer. My husband put in extra hours to make up for what would be lost time from his business. And I managed some unpaid time off to make it work.
I was hesitant to book an unchangeable ticket for such a long period – around 5-6 weeks. How would we entertain our kids that long? What if they got bored? What if we wanted to come back sooner? “Don’t worry, the time will fly by,” assured my husband.
We talked about taking a break from our family’s house and renting a small pied-a-terre in the heart of the city. We’d get around on bicycles, wake up to freshly squeezed carrot juice from one of the local juice bars, and then ride to the beach where we’d spend a lazy summer day, joined by friends and cousins. I imagined my almost 9-year-old son gaining some independence from us. Able to spend nights with his cousins and create lifelong memories. We’d even leave the kids with family for a few days and enjoy some much-needed couple time. So we thought.
We did most of those things – except for renting the pied-a-terre (taking advantage of the built-in babysitting with family). But it was not easy nor carefree. The summers there are hot and humid, and most of our outdoor activity was limited to post 6:00 p.m. to avoid overheating. My boys grew restless. I’d wake up every day to my oldest asking what we’d do that day, who we’d see, and when. Over. And. Over. Every. Day. This became our new routine and it was more exhausting than the previous one.
We quickly realized our spontaneity and lack of planning was lost on them. They needed a schedule. They needed structure, and we just couldn’t cut it. We were already there, and I wanted to make sure we utilized every moment to see and do everything we had hoped and planned for, but some of the days became a game of finding a way of passing the time with kids who were largely agitated and ungrateful of the lack of a kid-centered curated itinerary.
It became apparent it was not the length of time but the quality of time that was most important to our family. Spending over 40 days and 40 nights together – with almost no break – was a detriment to our collective sanity.
So next time I read a post that guilts me into thinking I’m not spending enough time with my kids during the summer, I’ll give some thought to a few nice activities we can do after I pick them up from camp.
