Dear Summer Camp Scheduling Season,
I hate you.
I’ll get to why, but let me first start by saying how much I want to love you.
For one, my Gen X, working-mom heart is enthralled by the possibility all your camps promise: freedom to work continuously during the summer months while my children frolic along nature trails at outdoor camp, compose masterpieces at music camp, and make the best of friends at sleepaway camp. The offerings you describe in your sign-up newsletters sound magical and adventurous all at once—a far cry from the mundane YMCA Day Camp I attended for weeks on end as a suburban eighties child.
Also, I admire your Type A personality. Even though June is months away, you’re getting all your ducks in a row here in February. The spots for nearly every summer camp option will be filled in just a few short weeks. You plan ahead, and that’s to be commended.
That said, our relationship just isn’t working for me anymore.
Most importantly, I find you incredibly overwhelming, if I’m being honest. There’s no central system to navigate you. I’m on my own to find what camps are appropriate for my child’s age range, are available when I need them, and fit my pre- and post-camp childcare needs. Each year, I waste valuable time I could be spending with my kids researching and organizing all the options. I scour the internet, ask my friends, and even read flyers posted in coffee shops. And, since I carry the mental load in my family as a mom, this is a task I perform solo.
Also, there are different sign-up dates for every camp. That means, unless my kids attended underwater basket weaving camp last summer, AND the administrators send me a pre-registration email, AND I remember to add the pre-registration date to my calendar, my children won’t be weaving anything this year. The same goes for vet camp, swim lessons, or even the janky parkour camp down at the park run by a bunch of untrained teenagers. The camp hours are also different, as are the lists of required materials I’m supposed to buy in preparation, the emergency contact information requirements, and the release forms I’m meant to stuff in my kids’ backpacks on the first day. I’m an organized person, but even I can’t keep it all straight.
Plus, you continue to not respect my money boundaries, asking me to shell out money I don’t have right after the holidays. Is there a payment plan, or do I really have to pay $437 per child per week right now to have them occupied and entertained five months from now? And why, exactly, is it so expensive? I understand these small businesses need to make a dollar, but face paint and hot glue sure must cost a lot. My credit card bill will be $5,000 come March 1. I’ll be paying that off for months, and even that won’t fully meet my summer care needs. There are a few cheaper camp alternatives, but we both know those are hard to come by, and sometimes have their trade-offs. I feel the financial pressure you knowingly put on my shoulders each year and I don’t like it. I think you kind of do, though.
I’m irritated, too, about the way you’re two-faced. Your sign-up website shows pictures of kids laughing and having fun, learning new skills, and staying active. My daughter came home last August and reported that cinematography camp really meant just sitting on bean bags watching Disney Plus for hours. I understand a week is a long time, and I don’t expect my children to be academically stimulated every moment of every day, but I have a subscription to that at home.
Don’t tell me you’re one thing, and then be another. If I hadn’t been trying to work while I paid for you to get my kids’ creative juices flowing, I would have asked for a refund. By the time I finished all my to-dos, though, I was too exhausted.
Maybe the biggest reason I hate you, though, is the way you’ve turned my community into the Hunger Games for the entire month. No, I do not usually set an alarm to wake up at 11:50 pm so I can be sitting at my computer by midnight, my hand hovering over the keyboard. Generally, at that time, I am dead asleep, dreaming about my running list of personal and professional tasks that have yet to be finished. I was sure as hell there last night, though. How else was I going to beat my neighbor, Judy, out for the very last third-grade dance camp spot? I tried not to make eye contact with her at the school pick-up line today, knowing I’m the reason little Evelyn will be home, bored and dejected, July 10-17. It’s ruthless on these streets right now, and you’re the only reason why.
In conclusion, Summer Camp Scheduling Season, you are toxic. You stress me out. You make me broke. You hurt all my other relationships. You put even more of the mental load on my shoulders. And, when I find an alternative to you, I’m leaving. The only problem is, no other solution exists. I guess I’ll have to make one up myself. Let me just add that to my list.
~Whitney
