Every summer, like clockwork, it appears in my social media feed. Usually overlaid on a sunset photo of silhouetted children running through a sprinkler, or maybe a perfectly curated beach scene: “You only get 18 summers with your kids.”
The first time I saw it, I felt that familiar jolt of mom guilt. Was I making the most of this summer? Was I present enough? Was I creating enough magical memories? But by the fifth time it popped up, something else kicked in: exhaustion. Not just physical exhaustion (though at 5:37 AM, with my boys already bouncing off the walls, I’m definitely that too), but emotional exhaustion from yet another piece of motherhood advice that somehow manages to both romanticize and minimize what we actually go through.
The Problem with Cute Countdown Culture
Here’s the thing about “18 summers” it sounds profound, but it’s built on a lie. It assumes that parenting has a clean expiration date, that our relationships with our children end when they turn 18, and that we’re somehow failing if we don’t treat every single moment as precious and fleeting.
But here’s what that saying doesn’t capture: By 10 AM on any given Tuesday in July, I’ve already lived five different lives. I’ve been a short-order cook (making three different breakfasts because apparently cereal is “too crunchy” today), a referee (mediating the great Megnatiles territory dispute of 2025), a crisis counselor (because someone’s favorite shirt is in the wash), a logistics coordinator (scheduling playdates around swimming lessons around grocery runs), and a motivational speaker (convincing a four year-old that yes, you do need to wear sunscreen).
And it’s not even lunch time. My 4-year-old has already asked me 57 questions about why the sky is blue, and my 11-month-old has somehow managed to make his way to the toilet bowl, when I was pretty sure I had closed the door.
The “18 summers” narrative asks us to be grateful for all of this while simultaneously implying that if we’re not savoring every chaotic, overwhelming, beautiful, impossible moment, we’re somehow missing the point. It’s peak toxic positivity dressed up as inspiration.
The Reality Check We Need
Motherhood isn’t a countdown. It’s not a race against time where we either win by creating perfect memories or lose by being human. It’s a long, complex, evolving relationship that, if we’re doing it right, extends far beyond 18 summers.
When I look at other mothers I admire – friends, mentors, women in my community – I see that their most meaningful moments with their adult children often happen long after the 18-year mark. I see them celebrating graduations, supporting their kids through career changes, being there for major life moments. I watch them develop genuine friendships with their grown children, and I think – that’s what I want to build with my boys.
If we’re raising our children with intention, with love, with the goal of helping them become independent, confident adults, then we’re not just getting 18 summers. We’re (hopefully) getting 18 summers, plus college visits, plus wedding planning, plus grandparent adventures, plus decades of adult friendship with these little people we’re currently trying to convince to put on shoes.
The Myth of the Perfect Summer
The “18 summers” mentality also perpetuates this idea that we need to be creating Instagram-worthy memories constantly. That every summer day should be filled with meaningful activities, learning opportunities, and joy. But sometimes the most real moments of motherhood happen when we’re all just trying to survive the heat, the boredom, and each other.
Sometimes summer looks like letting them watch too much TV because it’s 35 degrees and no one wants to go outside. Sometimes it looks like ordering pizza for the second time this week because you’re too tired to meal plan. Sometimes it looks like everyone crying in the car on the way home from what was supposed to be a fun family outing because your 4-year-old had a meltdown about the wrong flavor of ice cream and your baby is screaming because they’re overtired and you’re questioning every parenting decision you’ve ever made.
These moments are just as valid as the perfect beach days. They’re just as much a part of the summer experience. They’re just as much a part of raising children who will remember that their mom was human, not superhuman.
What We’re Actually Doing
Instead of counting down 18 summers, what if we acknowledged what we’re actually doing? We’re showing up every day (often starting at 5 AM, thanks kids) for the long game of parenting. We’re building relationships that we hope will last a lifetime. We’re teaching resilience not just through fun activities, but through modeling how to handle stress, disappointment, and overwhelming days.
We’re not just creating childhood memories, we’re laying the foundation for adulthood. We’re teaching them that love doesn’t end when you turn 18, that support doesn’t have an expiration date, and that family relationships can grow and evolve and become even more meaningful over time.
We’re also taking care of ourselves (or trying to) because we know that sustainable parenting requires sustainable parents. We’re not martyrs counting down to some arbitrary endpoint. We’re women raising children while also maintaining our own identities, careers, friendships, and mental health – and sometimes that means accepting that the relationship we build with our children might be different from what we experienced growing up.
The Long Game
The truth is, if we’re doing this right, 18 is just the beginning. It’s not the end of our parenting journey, it’s the start of a new phase. It’s when we get to see who these little people become when they’re not under our constant supervision. It’s when we get to enjoy them as adults, to learn from them, to be surprised by them.
Some of my friends talk about their parents with such genuine enjoyment. They text throughout the day, they travel together, they’ve become each other’s confidants. That didn’t happen because they maximized every summer moment before age 18. It happened because they built a strong foundation and then allowed the relationship to grow and change.
Permission to Be Human
So here’s what I want to say to my fellow millennial moms who are feeling overwhelmed by the pressure to make every summer moment count: You have permission to be human. You have permission to have hard days. You have permission to let your kids be bored sometimes. You have permission to not craft the perfect summer experience.
Your love for your children isn’t measured by how many activities you plan or how many memories you create or how present you are in every single moment. Your love is measured by your consistency, your commitment to showing up even when it’s hard, and your willingness to grow alongside them.
The “18 summers” narrative isn’t just wrong, it’s harmful. It puts pressure on us to perform motherhood instead of just living it. It suggests that our relationships with our children have an expiration date instead of celebrating the fact that, if we’re lucky, we get so much more than 18 summers.
We get a lifetime of summers, and winters, and springs, and falls. We get to watch them grow up, and then we get to watch them live their lives. We get to be their mom not just for 18 years, but forever.
And that’s worth a lot more than a sunset Instagram post.
The Balanced Mom
What do you think? Are you feeling the pressure of “18 summers” culture? How do you balance creating memories with just surviving the everyday chaos of motherhood? Share your thoughts in the comments – let’s normalize the real experience of raising kids.
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