Something amazing happened a few weekends ago.

I trained my kids how to make their own lunch at my parents’ house.

To be clear, they didn’t learn how. They already knew how.

But my attitude these days is, “You have two hands and two feet. You’re fully capable.”

It sounds ridiculous, I know. My kids have been capable of making their own lunch for years. But somehow, at the beach, I was still in charge of procuring, preparing, and serving lunch as if I worked concessions. I once saw a shirt that said “Snack Dealer.” It felt less like a joke and more like a job description. 

My parents live at the beach. It basically becomes our weekend home over the summer. But it’s a lot. Always has been.

It’s predictable.

Get up.
Skate park.
Lunch.
Beach.
Showers.
Dinner.
Bike ride.
Bed.

A couple years ago, I decided I was done hauling the wagon to the beach and instituted the rule: “Whatever you can carry can come. Whatever you can’t, stays behind.”

I thought THAT was life-changing.

Until last year when I finally decided that since both kids could shower themselves, I would go first (my mom has a rule that no kid comes inside without showering outside first). Then I could be inside helping my mom get dinner started while they cleaned up.

Again, life-changing.

This year, I can already see it.

If you’re hungry, go help yourself.

Another small shift. Another weight off my shoulders.

And I realized none of these changes were really about wagons, showers, or lunch.

They were about me.

Every summer, I seem to hand back one more responsibility that was never supposed to be mine forever.

And every time I do, I get a tiny piece of myself back.

It’s amazing how much lighter motherhood feels when you stop doing jobs nobody actually hired you to do