By Katie Revai LeFevre 
It’s only the second week of summer, and, thanks to modern-day social media, I feel like I’ve already seen it all. Picture-perfect beach getaways, color-coded bucket lists, backyard neighborhood movie nights, you name it. And if I’m being honest, I’ve already caught myself wondering if I’m doing enough. More than once, at that.
As a solo mom of two, I’m still adjusting to our new norm while trying desperately to delicately let go of any expectations tied to all of our past experiences…including summer vacations. I’m reminding myself that our summers won’t look like they used to. At least not right now. Maybe not ever. And to be honest, that’s something I sometimes wish I didn’t have to ponder.
Something that is worth pondering, however? The fact that somehow, somewhere along the way, we’ve started believing childhood needs to be curated. We’ve started convincing ourselves that our children need more. More trips. More activities. More experiences. More magic…the list goes on. But when I look back on my own childhood, I surely don’t remember every old-school map-guided destination.
What I do remember? The simple magic that wove every long, sun-kissed day together. I remember days spent at the river. Endless popsicles and s’mores and watermelon seed-spitting contests. Water balloon fights, drinking straight from the garden hose, and backyard slip-n-slides. Living room campouts at my grandparents’ house and playing capture the flag with my sisters and cousins. Those are the days that live in my memory forever.
And my children? They won’t hold grudges over whether we’ve accomplished anything more than everything we lived for before the norm became to always expect more. Instead, they’ll remember how home felt. They’ll remember chasing the ice cream truck down the street just in time to claim their fudge pops, as if those $1 fudge pops were their first frozen treat ever. They’ll remember evenings spent running free at the splash pad and after-dinner walks at the park picking wish flowers. They’ll remember moments with family and, above all, one another. That’s my prayer, at least.
With that–and to my fellow mamas letting the urge to kick the season into gear make you question whether or not you’re doing enough–I urge you to remember: our children don’t need burnt-out mothers trying frantically to manufacture picture-perfect summers. They just need us to be present.
To my fellow mamas letting social media make you question whether or not you’re filling your little humans’ summertime days with enough goodness to remember, please know: you don’t have to fill every day. You don’t have to spend thousands of dollars. After all, the simple, lived-in moments are the ones that–when all is said and done–will actually matter.
Fellow mamas, if your summer is filled with more love than luxury, more presence than perfection, and more connection than comparison, let this be your reminder: it will be magical enough just the way it is. I promise, it will be enough–and full of moments your children will treasure.
Here’s to the good old summer days I only wish we could bottle up and keep forever.
by Kelley Mack 
by Connie Cumming 
