End of Summer Parent Burnout: What to Do When Back to School Feels Too Much Right Now
I was standing at the kitchen sink at 2:47 PM yesterday, scraping burnt mac and cheese off a baking sheet, when it hit me. The floor by the back door is sticky with three-day-old popsicle juice, my 8-year-old is yelling at my 11-year-old for hiding his favorite fidget spinner, the golden retriever just stole one of the new back-to-school socks I pulled out of the package that morning, and I’d already broken up three fights in the last 90 minutes. I snapped, raised my voice, and sent both of them to their rooms. Then I leaned against the fridge and cried a little—quiet, tired tears, the kind that catch you off guard over a fidget spinner and a chewed up sock.
We finished summer camp a week ago, our big end-of-summer lake trip was two weeks back, and school doesn’t start for another five days. This weird, empty limbo is the part no one warns you about. Every year I tell myself I’ll plan something to fill the gap, and every year it just turns into this stretch where everyone is out of sorts. Kids are bored of their toys, tired of each other, and quietly buzzing with unspoken anxiety about new classes and new teachers. I’m juggling 17 back-to-school forms, vaccine update reminders, and a supply list that asks for four different kinds of glue sticks, and all I want to do is sit on the couch and scroll until bedtime. I thought I was the only one who felt this way until I texted three mom friends after my little cry by the fridge, and every single one wrote back something along the lines of, “I yelled at my kid over a misplaced lunch box today and I’m this close to sleeping in my car tonight.”
All the online content is either “10 fun end-of-summer activities to make lasting memories” or “15 steps to a stress-free back to school transition.” No one says that sometimes, you’re just hanging on by a thread, and that’s normal. That’s when I started testing small, low-effort changes to get through this week without burning out completely before the first bell even rings.
The first mistake I used to make every year was trying to pack this week full of fun to “end summer right.” I’d drag everyone to the zoo, or the water park, or a children’s museum, and by the end of the day we’re all sunburnt, exhausted, and fighting in the car on the way home, and I have zero energy left to do any of the actual prep I need to get done. Last year I gave that up, and this year I tried the chunk system my sister, a 4th grade teacher, told me about. It’s so simple it sounds silly, but it works. Every day is split into 90-minute blocks: first block, everyone stays in their own space. They can read, play with toys, scroll TikTok, whatever—no coming to me with problems unless someone is bleeding. Second block, everyone goes outside in the backyard. They can ride bikes, dig in the dirt, play badminton, I don’t care what they do, they just have to be out there. I stay inside, drink coffee, and do one back-to-school task. Third block, we do one small thing together: either sort through last year’s school clothes to see what fits, or put new supplies in their backpacks, or walk to the corner store for popsicles. The rest of the day is whatever, no rules. It cuts down on 90% of the bickering because they’re not all underfoot all the time vying for attention, and I actually get things done without feeling like I’m working nonstop.
I also stopped following the common advice to adjust kids’ sleep schedules two weeks early. Every year I try that, and every year I end up fighting with two kids who are wide awake at 8 PM begging for water and snacks, and I’m up an hour later than usual cleaning up after them. Now I just shift bedtime 10 minutes earlier every night, starting three days before the first day of school. 10 minutes is nothing. No one fights it, because it’s barely a change. By the first day, they’re already adjusted 30 minutes earlier, which is enough to get them back on track without all the drama. Big overhauls don’t work when you’re already tired—small, low-effort changes work just as well.
After I snapped the other day, I realized I’d been trying to hide how tired I was from the kids. I thought if I showed them I was stressed, it would make their own back-to-school anxiety worse. But I tried something different: I called them out of their rooms, sat down at the kitchen table, and said, “I’m sorry I yelled. I’m really tired right now, we have a lot going on before school starts, and I’m cranky. That’s not your fault, it’s just how I feel. Can we all give each other a little extra space this week?” That’s it, no big speech, just that. My 11-year-old immediately said, “I’m kind of cranky too. I’m nervous about my new math teacher.” My 8-year-old said, “I don’t want to stop playing all day.” We all just admitted we’re cranky, and that was that. No fixing, no cheering anyone up, just acknowledging it. That took more weight off me than any self-care bath ever has.
Tonight, it’s three days before school starts. The kitchen counter still has a pile of unopened school supplies, I haven’t bought my older son’s new sneakers yet, and there’s still sticky popsicle juice on the floor by the back door that I haven’t mopped up. I still have moments where I think I don’t know how much more of this I can take. But today, I only had to break up one fight, I got all the emergency contact forms filled out, and we all had extra brownies after dinner. It’s not the perfect, memorable end to summer all the parenting reels talk about. But it’s enough. This week doesn’t have to be fun, it doesn’t have to be productive, it just has to get gotten through. If you’re also here, hanging on by a thread, counting down the days until the first bell, you’re not doing anything wrong. You’re just tired, and that’s what this week is for a lot of us. Next week, the routine will kick in, and we’ll all remember how to do this again. For now, it’s okay to just get through one chunk at a time.
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