This Summer We're Trying Something Different: A Conscious Parent's Guide to Connection Over Chaos

When the old rhythms no longer fit and you're creating something new—here's how to stay grounded, connected, and present through the beautiful messiness of summer parenting.

Picture this: You're standing in the school playground, watching your child's early childhood chapter close and feeling all the emotions while simultaneously trying to remember if you packed sun cream, re-scheduled that dentist appointment, and replied to seventeen million different WhatsApp messages about work and summer playdates.

Sound familiar?

This year, my daughter is leaving primary school, and for the first time in years, we're not doing our usual summer rhythm of camps and festivals. Instead, we're trying something completely different, we're going to be home much more than ever before. The kids are growing up, they have their own friendship groups, and my daughter wants proper time with her school friends before everyone scatters.

But here's the thing: the thought of being home all summer, fitting in all the play dates and managing my work and everyone else's expectations about what we will and won't be doing? It's both exciting and slightly terrifying.

In this post, I'm sharing what I've learned about conscious parenting during summer transitions over the years and the foundations that need to be in place for this new experiment to work. You'll discover why putting yourself first isn't selfish (it's survival), how to find your anchors when everything feels unstructured, and the sweet spot between planning and spontaneity that creates space for real connection.

Why "Me First" Isn't Selfish…..It's Survival

Summer often comes with this myth of ease and relaxation, but for many parents, it can actually be one of the most intense times of year.

I learned this the hard way last summer. About three weeks in, I found myself crying in the supermarket car park. Not dramatic tears, just this quiet overwhelm. My kids were arguing in the backseat about ice cream flavors, I'd forgotten to eat lunch again, and I realized I hadn't had a single moment to myself in days.

That's when I knew something had to shift.

The truth is: if I don't take care of myself first, everything falls apart. Whether it's a daily sit spot with my morning tea, an hour at a café with my journal, or a long bath after the kids are in bed, I need moments that are just for me.

And if your mind immediately says, "That's not possible for me," just pause. What's your version of resistance? "I've got too many kids." "There's no time." "I feel guilty when I'm not with them." All valid. But is it completely true?

I started with tiny pockets. While the kids had their after-lunch screen time, instead of doing dishes, I'd sit outside with my tea. Small moments, but claimed with intention. And here's what I discovered: when I gave myself those moments, I showed up differently. More patient. More present. More like the mother I actually wanted to be.

Your turn: Identify one small window in your day where you could claim 5-10 minutes for yourself. Not to be productive, but to just be. What would that look like for you?

Finding Your Anchors When Everything Feels Unstructured

Summer can feel completely unstructured, and that's exactly why reconnecting with your grounding practices becomes so important.

For me, it's three simple things: a few minutes of meditation, some kind of movement that feels good in my body, and time outside, what I call my sit spot practice.

There's my frint terrace with a small table and chairs where I go in the morning with my tea. I don't go there to think or plan or solve problems. I go there to just be. And there is my spot in the woods- 5 minutes walk away where I can lean against a tree and really ground and feel the elements and all of my senses.

And here's the thing: I don't hide this from my kids. I say, "I'm nipping out for my sit spot," and even if they roll their eyes, they're watching. They're learning that it's okay to pause, to be with yourself, to not always be in motion.

My son started announcing, "I'm going to have some quiet time in the woods," and I'll watch him head off on his own. He's learning that he can be with himself.

These anchor practices don't have to be elaborate. Maybe yours is a morning cup of tea before anyone else wakes up. Maybe it's a walk around the block after dinner. The key is making them portable and simple enough that you can't talk yourself out of them.

Your turn: What's one simple practice that helps you feel grounded? How could you make it portable and consistent enough to carry you through the summer?

The Sweet Spot Between Structure and Spontaneity

Over the years, I've discovered that summer works best when there's just enough structure to feel held, but enough space to let spontaneity breathe.

I used to panic if there wasn't something to do every day. I'd over-plan everything, activities booked weeks in advance, every day mapped out. Result? We were exhausted. Then I swung the other way, no plans, just see what happens. That was chaos. By 10 AM, we'd be staring at each other like, "Now what?"

So I've found the middle ground, and it comes down to mixing the familiar with the new. Last summer, we went to the same wild swim spot every time the sun shone and we were home. Same spot, same routine—kids knew where the good bits were, I knew what to pack, which friends would come with us at the drop of a hat. But then on other days, we'd try something new. The familiar gave us belonging and roots, while the new gave us adventure.

This year, I've booked just three anchor points: a week on a camp we go to every year, a weekend camping trip with friends, and tickets to see a show the kids have been wanting to see. Everything else gets to be spontaneous, but those three things give us something to look forward to.

There's also something I want to say about boredom. In our culture, we've become afraid of it. We think it's our job to entertain our children constantly. But boredom is actually a gift—it's where creativity lives, where imagination flourishes. Some of my kids' best summer memories have come from those moments when they said, "I'm bored," and I resisted the urge to fix it.

Your turn: What are 2-3 anchor points you could plan for your summer? And where can you create space for boredom and spontaneity to work their magic?

Creating Your Own Summer Experiment

This summer, as my daughter prepares to leave primary school and we try this new rhythm of being home more, I'm not aiming for perfect. I'm aiming for real. For connected. For moments of genuine joy mixed in with the everyday chaos.

You can create a summer that feels good in your body—not just for the memories you're building, but for the version of you that gets to be well in the process.

The foundations are simple: moments for yourself, practices that ground you, and just enough structure to feel held while leaving space for spontaneity. When we parent consciously—when we stay connected to ourselves, our children, and our values—we're not just changing our summer. We're modeling something powerful for our children and healing patterns for generations to come.

Ready to create your own summer experiment?

🎧 Listen to the full podcast episode here where I dive into this journey and share more about navigating summer transitions with presence and intention.

💫 Take my Life Compass Assessment for an intentional pause to recalibrate and get clear on where you are and where you want to go—not just in parenting, but in all areas of your life.

Summer is calling. Not the Instagram version, but the real one. The one where you get to be exactly who you are, where you are, with the children you have, in this moment. And that's more than enough.