If you asked me if I was a good mother, I would say yes. I am loving, attentive, affectionate, and will say yes to most ideas my child has, as long as they are not dangerous. Of course, you can also go outside in your pajamas and play with the water hose. I would be happy if you would like to play outside. But what if you were asked the same question over the summer? I would be lost. Because honestly, becoming a mom over the summer turns me into a bitch that I can barely stand.
When I decided to have children, I don’t think I’d ever heard the term “overstimulation” before. In fact, it took until I was a toddler, barely surviving a year’s worth of sleepless nights, before I really started feeling the effects. I remember standing at the stove preparing dinner that no one else in the house would be happy to eat, my dog scratching at the back door to let me in, and my 2-year-old son dragging his toy pirate ship across the sandy tile floor, saying, “I’m hungry.” now. The sound, the demands, the urgency all made me scream and run from the house, never to look back.
That’s when I realized that the frustration I had throughout the day (which always reached my eyeballs by dinner time) was due to overstimulation. Every new request, touch, and attention-seeking felt like being thrown up against a mental brick wall, and my nervous system was battered by the constant sounds and the huge emotions of having a small child in the house.
Day care was a huge help during this time. This gave me enough time and space to work without having to juggle caring for my son, and it created some quiet time in my day. I was able to control my frustration by taking long deep breaths. My son is now 5 years old and actually in school, but every summer he is deprived of about 80 days of his union-mandated nervous system break. I try my best not to make it everyone’s problem.
This summer we decided to keep our son at home. He’s very shy and anxious, so going to a new camp every week or two won’t work. Furthermore, this year we are focusing on paying off debt, and summer childcare fees are notoriously expensive. To others who are currently in that situation, let me just say this: Working from home and raising children is not easy. Some days it literally feels like my brain is overheating. Like dentures on your bedside table, you’ll do anything to pop them out and throw them into a glass of water.
Because, oh my god, kids this age. Never be silent.
I thought of a hundred ways to gently explain to him that he didn’t have to say every thought he was thinking out loud, that I didn’t have to watch every time he added one magnetic tile to the zoo he was building, that he wouldn’t die if he wasn’t constantly making hums, raspberries, or some other repetitive noise. Unfortunately, I haven’t found a way yet that doesn’t hurt his feelings. Instead, “Buddy, I love you, but while I’m trying to work, I can’t respond to your every thought,” is a phrase he often hears now.
It feels terribly demeaning to even complain about it. He is 5 years old! This is all developmentally normal, healthy, and good. I want Let him tell you when you need something or accomplish something great. But if I’m just trying to sit through a meeting and he laughs and thinks it’s time to fire a hard plastic Pokemon figure at me from just outside the Zoom frame, then yeah, I want to snatch the nearest cushion and squeeze him. If my group chat is any indication, I’m not the only mom feeling this way right now.
Most of the time, our weekdays end with some kind of fight. He’s old enough now to understand my anger. It’s unfair and understandably frustrates him. And now I’m losing even more energy to suppressing my tone and frustrated sighs before they leak out and do damage.
These days don’t happen in a vacuum. No, it happens against the backdrop of an Instagram video. Remind him that you only have 18 summers with him, and that creating core memories can be as simple as, say, having a picnic dinner on your front lawn once a week. Being a good mother implies free and low burden, but being a grumpy and tired mother can cost you 18 precious summers under the same roof.
Meanwhile, I’m working hard and trying to make ends meet so I can afford all the popsicles I’m supposed to feed him on the porch so I can have a ~90’s summer. ～
Unfortunately there is no real solution to this problem. School is closed in the summer. Work isn’t like that. Camping remains prohibitively expensive. Salaries in industries across the country remain sluggish. For those fortunate enough to be able to work from home, at least they can care for their children without the additional financial burden of paying for daycare or camp, but the emotional strain is very real.
Personally, I’m biting my tongue and trying to cope with an impending migraine.
