Why I’m Burnt Out Before Back to School (And 3 Small Things That Are Helping Me Cope)
It’s 2:17 pm on a Wednesday, two weeks before the first day of school, and I’m leaning against my kitchen sink staring at a ring of popsicle juice sticky on the floor. My 10-year-old just yelled from the living room that his 7-year-old sister drew all over his new Switch case with a permanent marker, my AC is humming so loud I can barely hear my own thoughts, and the school email I just opened has 11 attachments and a request for each kid to bring three boxes of tissues for the classroom. I blurt it out before I can stop myself: “I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”
My sister pauses mid-draw, looks up at me, and says, “More of what?” I wipe my hands on my stained leggings and shake my head. “Nothing, bug. Just sticky counters.”
We didn’t even overschedule this summer. No back-to-back sports camps, no cross-country road trip that required 12 hours in a van, no endless playdates. We did a week at my mom’s house, a handful of trips to the community pool, and that’s it. I intentionally left most of the summer open, because I wanted lazy days. I wanted the kids to learn how to entertain themselves. What I didn’t account for was the slow, steady fraying that happens by the end of August, when everyone’s forgotten what a routine feels like, all the novelty of summer has worn off, and I’m still expected to be referee, cook, activities director, and part-time remote worker all at once, while also checking off a mile-long list of back-to-school to-dos.
For years I felt guilty for feeling this way. I’d scroll past posts about cherishing these last lazy days of summer and think I was doing something wrong. Why can’t I just enjoy this? Why am I counting down the days until the first bell? But after three end-of-August burnouts, I’ve realized this feeling isn’t abnormal. It’s just what happens when you’ve had almost two months of constant togetherness with no built-in break, and the stress of prepping for a new school year gets layered on top of that. You don’t have to be a bad parent to be tired of it.
Over the past two weeks, I’ve tested a handful of small things that have taken the edge off, none of which require a full schedule overhaul or a weekend away without kids.
The first thing I started doing is a non-negotiable 20-minute solo block right after lunch. I set a timer on my phone, and I tell the kids: “For the next 20 minutes, everyone plays in their own room. I’m going to sit on the back porch, and I will not answer any questions about where the extra slime is or why your Minecraft server won’t work unless someone is bleeding.” At first they complained. The first day, my 10-year-old knocked on the back door three times. Now he just drags his Switch to his bed and my sister plays with her stuffed animals, and I sit on my porch swing and drink warm iced tea (I forget it out there, it’s fine) and don’t do anything. I don’t use that time to do chores or fill out forms. I just sit. It’s enough to keep me from snapping at them over a drawn-on Switch case by 3 pm.
The second thing I changed is I limited back-to-school prep to one 15-minute task a day. I used to block off a whole Sunday to tackle the supply list, fill out all 11 emergency contact forms, order school photos, and pack the backpacks, and by the end of that Sunday I’d be so drained I’d be in bed by 7 pm. Now I just do one thing. Monday: fill out the health forms. Tuesday: buy new sneakers for my son. Wednesday: cross off the 10 items on the supply list that we don’t already have. That’s it. If I don’t feel like doing it that day, I push it to tomorrow. I also stopped buying all the extra stuff that the school doesn’t actually require. Last year’s backpack still zips? We’re using it. The supply list doesn’t require a specific fancy folder? We’re using the ones we have from last year that aren’t torn. Cutting out that extra running around and extra spending takes so much pressure off.
The third thing I started doing is naming the tired out loud, instead of pretending everything is fine. Instead of snapping when they start fighting for the tenth time that day, I just stop and say, “Guys, I’m really tired today, and I think you both are tired too. We haven’t had our normal routine in a long time, and it’s okay to be sick of being home all day. Let’s sit on the couch and watch one episode of that cartoon you like, and then we can try again.” Last week, after I said that, my 10-year-old shrugged and said, “Yeah, I’m bored of this. I actually can’t wait for school to start. I miss art class.” I realized kids feel that same fraying too, they just don’t know how to put it into words. Giving it a name takes the tension out of the room faster than any time out ever has for us.
Tonight, we had boxed mac and cheese for dinner, the permanent marker still hasn’t come off the Switch case, and the two boxes of tissues I need to drop off at school are still sitting by the front door. I still lean against the fridge some afternoons and count down the days until the first morning, when I can walk the kids to the bus stop and come back to a quiet house. There are still days I feel guilty for it, for not cherishing every moment. But right now, this is where we are. Tired, a little frayed, counting down, and taking it 20 minutes at a time. That’s enough.
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