Photo: Johanes Plenio unsplash.com/@jplenio
The Pressure to Make Every Summer Count
I’ve been thinking lately about the pressure parents sometimes put on themselves to have the perfect summer.
A few years ago, I came across a meme that’s stayed with me ever since. It reminded parents that we only have a limited number of summers with our children before they graduate from high school and potentially leave home. The message was clear: Make every summer count.
By that measure, I only have six summers left with my youngest and two with my oldest. 
Of course, parenting is a lifelong relationship, and I hope to have many summers ahead of me as my children’s mom. But I also know these particular summers—the ones where we all live under the same roof and our schedules naturally overlap—are finite.
I understand the intention behind reminders like this. They encourage us to appreciate the preciousness of childhood. But instead of helping me savor summer, they sometimes create pressure to make the most of every day. Suddenly I find myself imagining Pinterest-worthy vacations, enriching summer camps, outdoor barbecues, and picture-perfect family memories. When reality looks different, it’s easy to wonder if I’m somehow falling short.
The truth is that for many families, mine included, both parents work throughout the summer. Kids want to spend more time with friends than family. Screens compete for everyone’s attention. Plans change. People get tired. Some days are wonderfully ordinary.
And maybe that’s exactly where mindfulness has something to teach us…
Rather than trying to create the perfect summer, what if we simply became more present for the summer we’re already having?
As you think back to your own childhood summers, what stands out to you?
Was it fancy vacations or expensive camps?
Or was it something quieter and more low key—eating watermelon on the porch, riding your bike after dinner because it was still light outside, running through the sprinklers in the backyard, making lemonade, or staying up just a little later than usual?
The moments that stay with us are often the ones that weren’t planned in advance.
What children of every age need most over the summer isn’t a perfectly curated calendar. They need time to slow down, rest, sleep in, connect with friends and family, spend time outside, rediscover books or hobbies that fell by the wayside during the hustle and bustle of the school year, and simply have room to breathe.
Lake Maligne and Spirit Island, Alberta, Canada. Photo by Noelle Wittliff.
Slowing Down Together
This became especially clear to me during a family trip to Jasper National Park. Surrounded by mountains, lakes, and forests, I could feel my nervous system settling a little more each day. Even now, when I close my eyes, I can picture the turquoise lakes and towering pines. Just remembering those places helps me take a deeper breath.
The mountains were beautiful, but they aren’t what I remember most. What stays with me is the slower pace, the conversations we had while walking and exploring, and the feeling of simply being together without rushing to the next thing.
As my children grow, I’m realizing something else.
I like the idea of getting to know who they are at this stage of their lives.
My tween and teen aren’t the same people they were three summers ago—or even last summer for that matter. Their interests have changed. Their sense of humor has changed. The things that make them laugh, frustrate them, or light them up continue to evolve.
When they were babies and toddlers, I remember watching them with a sense of wonder, curious about each new stage of development—every step they took or new word they spoke. What if we brought that same beginner’s mind to our older children? Instead of worrying about time slipping away, we can become curious about who they are today, in this moment.
So as we make our way through the rest of summer, perhaps the invitation isn’t to do more.
Perhaps it’s simply to notice more. A conversation in the car on the way to get boba. A shared laugh over dinner. A walk around the neighborhood. A card game after the dishes are done. An evening on the back porch while the sun begins to set.
These ordinary moments may not look remarkable while they’re happening, but they become part of our family’s shared story.
The Month’s Mindful Practice
This week, choose one ordinary summer moment to experience without trying to make it special.
Maybe it’s sharing a popsicle, walking the dog, listening to your child tell you about something they love, or simply sitting together outside for a few minutes.
Take one slow breath and remind yourself:
This moment doesn’t have to be extraordinary to become a memory.
Because we don’t need to count down how many summers we have left with our children.
We simply need to be present for the one we’re living now. 
