Summer break used to sound like a dream. Lazy mornings, spontaneous day trips, magical family memories. But as a mom of four? It’s… a marathon. A loud, sticky, sandy, beautiful marathon.

Our summer kicked off before Memorial Day, and since then, it’s been a non-stop loop of suitcases, guest towels, and Google Maps. We’ve had family visit (which I truly love — I’m so grateful my kids get to grow up with strong connections and traditions). But let’s be real — hosting takes energy. And then came vacation. And then another set of visitors. Then another vacation. Also with family. My calendar looks like an airport departures board.

Before our most recent trip, we even squeezed in a last-minute doctor visit because — of course — someone didn’t feel well. Because what’s vacation prep without a little medical panic sprinkled in?

On both vacations, we took 20,000+ steps at least one of our days. My legs were sore in places I didn’t know existed. One day we hit 20,000 steps by 5 p.m.. Did I sleep well those nights? No. Why? Because I was sharing a bed with a toddler who sleeps horizontally and kicks like she’s dreaming of karate class.

And the beach? Don’t even get me started. It’s beautiful and freeing and great for the soul — unless you’re a mom. Then it’s a constant high-stakes game of “Where’s the 2-year-old?!”. I love the ocean, but I am also terrified of it. Rip currents, jellyfish, waves taller than my kids — it all runs through my mind the minute their feet hit the water. Meanwhile, I’m scanning like a lifeguard with anxiety while pretending to smile for vacation photos.

Then there’s the sand. Sand in the bathing suits. Sand in the snacks. Sand in places sand should never be. And despite every effort — towels, rinse stations, mini vacuums — our car now basically is a beach. I don’t know how sand multiplies, but I swear we bring home more than we left behind.

Dining out? That’s fun in theory. In practice, my potty-trained toddler needs to go to the bathroom 2–3 times per meal. Sometimes before we even order. And, of course, it’s mom that has to take her. It’s a miracle if I get to eat anything while it’s still warm.

All of this, by the way, is happening while I also try to keep a business running and growing. I’ve squeezed in client emails between sunscreen reapplications. I’ve taken business calls with screaming kids in the background. I’ve replied to email questions while waiting in line for overpriced gelato. I’m tired.

And yet — I keep planning. Because I want the chaos. I want the memories. I want the giggles and wide-eyed wonder and sticky ice cream kisses. I want my kids to know what it feels like to be surrounded by love, even if that love comes with a side of exhaustion.

I want to give them the best summer. The best life. Not a perfect one — just one they’ll remember. I want them to grow up knowing the world is big and fun and full of adventure. I want them to say, “Remember when we went to the beach and built that sandcastle and Mom freaked out about the tide?” and laugh.

It’s exhausting. It’s thankless. But it’s worth it. And I know one day — maybe when the kids are older, or when the beach bag doesn’t have sippy cups in it — we’ll smile and remember just how full and beautiful this season really was. I hope everyone will look back and realize how much heart went into all of it — the snacks, the sunscreen, the 6 loads of laundry per day — and maybe even say “thanks.”

So to every mom out there doing all the things — planning, packing, parenting, and praying for a nap — I see you. You’re doing incredible work, even if it’s not always appreciated right now. The memories you’re making? They matter.

And the fact that you’re tired just means you’ve been showing up. Over and over again. That’s love.

Your fellow hot mess mom,
–B