We Sent the Kids to Summer Camp and Somehow Got More Work

School’s out for summer, as the song goes, but the minute the calendar flips to July, I take a deep breath and brace myself for the logistics ahead.

Because, yes, parents get to gleefully fist-pump the air after months of reminding people to do their homework, get to bed at a reasonable hour and find that missing library book. But for those of us with kids heading to summer camp, that temporary freedom is quickly replaced by work that can feel more taxing than the day-to-day routine of the school year: the mental load of summer camp.

In theory, summer camp is pure joy. Looking at my own son’s schedule, I see a week of soccer camp, a week of arts and sculpture camp and a few weeks at the local zoo. Pretty idyllic stuff.

But the devil is in the details and, more specifically, the amount of work crammed into a period of 10 weeks. Indeed, barring the chaos of Maycember, the color-coded summer calendar I maintain is far more complicated than anything I create from September to June.

It’s not just that he goes to five different camps. It’s the medical forms and legal waivers. The daily sunscreen applications. The name labels each camp requires on every. single. item. There are portal logins to remember (because every camp seems to use a different platform), swimsuits and towels to wash nonstop, not to mention the special performances and costumes I’m supposed to always know about. Crazy Hat Day, but make it sun-safe? Sure.

“I set so many reminders for myself and even then always seem to miss a form or theme day,” says one mom-of-two living in New Hampshire. “The updates also come via text, email, apps, portals. If you have multiple kids across a variety of camps, it’s exhausting.” Numerous threads on Reddit, community Facebook groups and even Substack also lament this administrative overwhelm, with moms complaining of the sheer volume of paperwork, as well as the personalization camps now require. (Have a kid who is prone to accidents? Throw in an extra pair of underwear. Are they nervous about thunderstorms? List that out under “top 3 fears” on the medical form.) Isn’t there an app for this? is a pretty common refrain.

If it feels like parents are navigating a sudden increase in paperwork and to-do’s, there is a reason for it: State and local regulations (as they pertain to everything from water play to individualized health plans) have expanded in recent years, which requires more detailed reporting from camp administrators in order to comply. Medical complexity has also increased, with kids needing not just Epipens and inhalers, but food allergy plans, ADHD meds and even mental health support. (The vaccine mandates of the Covid era also added pressure on camps, a move that requires, you guessed it, more forms.)

As for my own kitchen table, it transforms from a place where we gather for family dinners into a rotating command center of camp-related necessities. If I can see the outfit changes, swim goggles, water bottles and pickup forms laid out in front of me, I have a fighting chance of staying organized. (And, for the record, I'm only talking about day camp. Parents preparing for sleepaway camp deserve their own gold stars.)

All of this is to say that what is supposed to be a childcare solution quickly morphs into something else entirely: a seasonal project-management job layered on top of the one parents already have. We’re trying to keep our kids engaged, enriched and happily occupied, while also managing work, household responsibilities and the small matter of paying the bills.

Of course I’ll rise to the occasion. Parents are remarkably good at absorbing invisible labor and making it look effortless—even fun. But every summer, as I sort T-shirts and restock sunscreen, I’m reminded that even the most carefree season requires behind-the-scenes work. The labor never stops—it just gets a layer of SPF 50.