This summer felt different. For the first time since becoming a mom, I spent the season working full-time while my 3.5-year-old son, JJ, attended summer camp or stayed with his GiGi. It was a big change, and while I was deeply grateful for the path my career had taken, I couldn’t help but feel the twinge of what I called the “summertime blues.”
For two years, I was a stay-at-home mom. It was a beautiful and deeply rewarding time.
The previous year, I worked as an assistant preschool teacher, which allowed me to have summers off – an opportunity to soak up every sunny moment with JJ. We spent slow mornings exploring, creating, and just being together in the summertime without the time crunch of a workday.
Then, at the beginning of this year, I was offered a job that felt like the right next step: office manager at an exhibit company. It was fulfilling, engaging, and brought a renewed sense of professional identity. I truly enjoy the work, and I believe everything unfolded the way it was meant to.
Still, I felt a little heartache. This season that once meant endless together-time now looked different. JJ was excited about camp and time with his grandmother, and I knew he was in good hands – but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was missing out.
So this summer, I did my best to be intentional.
Just because I wasn’t off all day didn’t mean we couldn’t still create magic. I prioritized presence over perfection. I made time for camping trips, creek walks, hiking adventures, and messy art days. I wanted JJ to feel that summer vacation magic, and I wanted to be part of it, however I could.
That shift in mindset helped me reframe things. Instead of mourning what had changed, I chose to celebrate what we still had. My new motto became simple but powerful: It’s not my time off – it’s his childhood. These moments mattered. The evenings, the weekends, the little pockets of time we spent dipping our toes in the creek or chasing fireflies, they all counted.
Summer 2025 may have looked different from the ones before, but it was still beautiful in its own way. Because what made a summer special wasn’t time off; it was time together. And that, I’m so glad I held on to.
