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No FOMO Summer
Published 6/22/26
How I'm learning to stop wanting the vacation I'm not on
It's summer. School's out. Camp hasn't started. I'm just trying to make it through the days.
And then the good ol' 2002 hit of the summer "Soak Up the Sun" by Sheryl Crow plays in a CVS somewhere while I’m searching for aloe for my son’s sunburn and the gut-punch line I needed (even though I've heard it a hundred times) hits me:
It's not having what you want. It's wanting what you got.
I really felt that one this time.
The summer I'm not having
I am not going to Greece this year. I am not going to the Amalfi Coast. I am not packing five linen outfits and a kid into business class.
I am, however, sitting on my back patio. The dog is in a sunbeam. The kid is in a kiddie pool with grass floating in it. The popsicle situation has been escalating since 10:30 a.m.
This is the entire setup. And I have been trying really hard to be okay with that, but if I'm honest, it gets to me sometimes. Watching everyone's summer unfold somewhere with actual ocean access while I'm refilling the kiddie pool with the hose.
So I'm calling it. I will not spend time sulking. This is a No FOMO Summer. The dog, the sunbeam, the kiddie pool, the popsicle. A good summer is happening right in front of me, if I just put my phone down for a second.
What summer actually is
Here is what I keep forgetting about summer.
Summer is the lazy season. It is the season of low expectations, or no expectations at all. Nobody is supposed to be doing anything in particular. Living really is easier in the summertime. It's literally in the song.
Kids under five are way easier in summer. An ice pop. A sprinkler. A patch of grass. Basically as good as a five-star hotel on a beautiful Italian cliff overlooking the Mediterranean. The budget for our last outing (getting Italian ices) was six dollars and one of us didn't even put on shoes. We were both basically in pajamas. It was easy. Simple. Summer-y. And I didn't even need a passport.
The summers I actually remember
When I think about summer as a kid, I'm not thinking about anything fancy. I'm thinking about playing manhunt with the kids on my block until the streetlights came on. I'm thinking about my mom cutting watermelon at the kitchen sink. I'm thinking about my dad letting us camp in the backyard.
Nothing about my childhood summer that I remember required a fancy itinerary.
And right now, my kid is in the middle of building his version of those memories. The slow ones. The sticky ones. The ones happening in our actual backyard. The kiddie pool. The watermelon I keep cutting into stars because he thinks it's the coolest thing in the world. The sprinkler we bought for nine bucks at Target.
I keep almost missing it because I'm scrolling.
Wanting what you got
So here is the deal I'm making with myself.
This summer, I am going to cut the watermelon into stars. I am going to let bedtime slide. I am going to take the photos but not scroll the feed.
I am going to choose the patio over the passport.
If you are on a euro trip, I am sincerely thrilled for you. Send me a postcard.
But I am not going to spend the best ten weeks of the year wishing I were somewhere else. Because what I have is pretty good. The kid is going to be three next summer. And four the summer after that. And before I know it the kiddie pool will be in the basement and I'll be the one missing this version.
Sheryl was right.
It's not having what you want. It's wanting what you got.
And what I got is a sunbeam, a popsicle, and a kid who thinks star-shaped watermelon is the height of cuisine. So yeah, I'm gonna soak it up and tell everyone to lighten up.
This is your permission to do the same.
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