Episode 112: When Summer Break Isn’t So Sweet Anymore—The Tween & Teen Edition

Description:

Remember when summer felt easy? When a trip to the beach, a sticky ice cream cone, or a backyard sprinkler could make your kid’s whole day?

Yeah. That changes.

In this episode of the Peaceful Home Podcast, we’re getting honest about the heartbreak and whiplash of parenting tweens and teens through summer. You’ll hear stories that will make you nod (and maybe cry), a breakdown of what’s really going on in your child’s brain and body, and why their pulling away isn’t a rejection—it’s part of their growth.

If your kid suddenly wants nothing to do with your plans… if you’re grieving the summers you thought you’d have… or if you feel like you’re quietly disappearing while still holding everything together—this episode is for you.

We talk about:

• Why your tween suddenly doesn’t want to do any of the fun stuff you planned
• What brain science tells us about this awkward, tender season
• The grief of still doing everything and feeling invisible
• Why this stage feels so personal (even though it’s not)
• How to shift the pressure and reimagine connection

This episode is permission to stop chasing perfect summers—and start honoring the real one you’re in.

Because your child is still becoming.
And so are you.

Next week? We talk about what does work—how to build real connection this summer without losing your mind, your money, or your sense of self.

Ready to dive in and don't want to wait for next weeks tips, join us inside Living CALM, the ultimate parenting resource to help you have more calm, connection and peace in your parenting journey with your 4th grader and beyond! 

✨Join Living CALM Here! 

The best thing you can do for yourself and your kids is effectively regulate your nervous system. And a great place to start >> to wire the brain for gratitude. Research tells us that gratitude increases happiness and a peaceful mindset. Make the shift and watch how things in your life start to change. Sign up today! www.pamgodbois.com/gratitude

Transcript

Pamela: 1:02

Hey there and welcome back to The Peaceful Home Podcast. My name is Pam, and I'm your host. And today we're going to talk about something that hits right in the heart for so many moms. What happens when summer rolls in The sun is shining and suddenly your tween or teen wants nothing to do with your summer magic making efforts. You know exactly what I'm talking about. When you plan the beach day, you pack the snacks, you offer ice cream outings, maybe even a little road trip, and all you get is a shrug or worse. Ugh. Do we have to, today is real talk. No strategies, no Pinterest lists. Just truth and compassion because this moment in parenting, it's one of the hardest emotional shifts you'll make, and you are so not alone. Let's rewind. I grew up on the ocean, like literally on the ocean. We lived minutes from the beach and every day, whether it was raining or shining, chilly or windy, it didn't matter. We were in the water. We had sailing lessons in the morning, swimming lessons in the afternoon. We ate sand filled sandwiches with soggy Doritos crammed inside of them. So. We couldn't tell the difference between the crunch of the Dorito and the grit of the sand. We wrapped up in thread bear towels and sweatshirts, our hair soaked and salty, waiting for the next lesson. But this is where our friends were. We were not alone at the beach. Yes, it was me and my mom, but all of my friends who were also in these same lessons. This is where we spent our long summers for many, many years. We'd be barefoot in parking lots hopping from white line to white line to avoid burning our feet. And let's not forget those sticky vinyl seats that could sear the back of your thighs. That was peak summer trauma, but it was also magic. We didn't need much, just water suns, some snacks and some freedom and we want that for our kids too, right? We want summer to be carefree, memory rich, connected time, the stuff of their future nostalgia. So we try, but then something shifts. I had a client recently, a mom of two girls, 11 and 14, and she told me I plan this beautiful afternoon of the lake. I took the day off. I packed their favorite snacks. I found the Boogie Boards and the floats even brought a Bluetooth speaker for music and they just wouldn't come. She said she stood in the kitchen holding a watermelon, trying not to cry. She wasn't sad about just the missed Lake day. She was mourning what felt like the end of something because suddenly just when the oversight gets easier. They don't need sunscreen every 20 minutes or constant supervision at the playground, they stop wanting to go. That's the part no one warns you about. Here's what I need you to hear, not just as information, not just in your head, but as the truth that you can hold onto when your tween acts like you're the most annoying person on the earth. This is not your fault. This is development. This is biology. This is identity formation in real time. Let's break it down. First and foremost, why does this happen? Well, your child is beginning the lifelong process of separating from you. Yes, even now, this is called separation individuation, the psychological process of pulling away from caregivers to figure out who they are apart from you. They test boundaries. They resist your influence. They assert opinions that feel jarring. This isn't rebellion for the sake of drama. It's how they figure out what they believe, what they value, and how they want to move through the world. And here's the kicker. They do it by pushing against you the safe base. It's not that they don't love you, it's that in order to grow. They have to stretch the space between you and them, even if it stings. There's also the battle here or the desire for control and autonomy. See, tweens are hungry for control, not because they're power hungry, but because they're starting to recognize that they are separate beings. They wanna make decisions choose who they hang out with, decide what to do with their free time. So when you suggest an outing they didn't ask for or try to create connection on their terms, they may push it away. Not because they don't want connection, but because they want choice. This is hard to witness as a parent, but it's also part of raising a future adult who knows how to advocate for themselves this is also a time of big social development and peer influence. This is the age when peers become everything. Their social life, peer approval and group belonging starts to outweigh parental influence in many areas. This isn't because you've lost them, it's because their brains are wired for social navigation Right now, they're learning how to belong, how to be accepted, how to fit into peer culture. And that can make them more sensitive to peer pressure, image, consciousness, and group think. So when they'd rather spend four hours on FaceTime with a friend than go apple picking with a family that's development, not disconnection. And it doesn't mean you're not still important, it just means your role is shifting. And finally, this is a time of cognitive growth and abstract thinking. Here's where it gets really interesting. Your tween is developing the ability to think abstractly. They're starting to consider other perspectives, moral complexity, and their own values. At the same time, they're developing their self concept, how they see themselves, how they think others perceive them, and what they want to project into the world. This leads to self-consciousness comparison and yes, major attitude shifts. They become hyper aware of social cues and hypersensitive to judgment, including from you. It's not that they don't care, it's that they care so much that they hide it. So what does all this mean? The pulling away the eye roll, the refusal to join in on family fun. All of it is age appropriate, developmentally normal, and most importantly, not a reflection of how much they love you. Your tween is learning to navigate identity, power, belonging, and emotions all at once. It's messy, it's awkward, and sometimes it's brutal for everyone involved. But it's not personal. And the more you can understand these shifts, the more you can show up with compassion instead of confusion, because behind the mood swings, boundary testing and sulking is a young person doing exactly what their brain, heart, and body are wired to do, become who they are. I had a client, we'll call her Melissa, whose 13-year-old daughter used to be her little shadow. They would bake every Sunday, go to the farmer's market, make DIY face masks together, and then suddenly it stopped. Her daughter barely came out of her room. Every offer was met with no thanks, or maybe later or just a flat look. And Melissa was crushed. She started blaming herself. Maybe I worked too much. Maybe I didn't listen well enough. Maybe I missed my chance, but here's what I told her and what I wanna tell you. You didn't do anything wrong. This is part of how they individuate. They have to pull away to grow. Melissa started to shift her approach. She stopped taking the rejection. So personally, she focused on being there, not fixing or forcing connection. And slowly her daughter started to come back. Asked to help her make muffins again. Send her a funny TikTok or join her for a walk. Why? Because safety. Plus consistency equals trust. Trust is the foundation of teen connection. So let's pause here. If you've been feeling rejected, hurt, confused, or resentful, please hear this. It makes sense. You're grieving the end of one season while learning how to navigate the next. You're trying to stay open when everything in you wants to shut down. You're doing the brave, exhausting work, of loving your child through a season where they can't or won't love you back in the way that you want, but the connection isn't gone. It's just under renovation. Just like their brain, just like their identity, and just like you, as you continue to grow and evolve as a parent. So why does it feel so personal? Let's name this truth without rushing past it. It does feel personal, even when you know it's not. Even when you've read the parenting books and the brain science, even when you've coached other moms through it, even when you know this is developmental, individuation, hormones, whatever, it still feels like rejection because your heart remembers. Your heart remembers the little years. When Mama Come with me, was the soundtrack of your life when their sticky fingers reached up for your hand without hesitation. When they squealed with delight at the suggestion of the beach or the zoo, or a walk, just the two of you, they leaned in. They used to ask for more. They used to crawl into your lap even when they didn't fit. And now. You knock and wait to be invited into their world. And most of the time the door stays closed or worse. It opens with a deep sigh and a look that says what now? And listen, that moment, that individual shift from being their safe place to being the person they tolerate, it's disorienting, it's heartbreaking. For a lot of moms, it's identity shaking. You've spent years building this relationship, years of diaper changing, and school drop offs and bedtime snuggles, years of working on yourself so that you didn't pass your wounds down. Years of showing up even when you were exhausted, overwhelmed, or under supported. So when they start pulling away, not because they hate you, but because their biology says they have to, your nervous system still registers it as a loss. As abandonment, as rejection. And what does the brain do when it feels rejected? It spirals. Did I miss the window? Did I not do enough? Are we losing the closeness? We worked so hard to build. One moment I worked with said, it's like I can see her slipping away, and I don't know how to grab onto her without pushing her further. That's the paradox, right? The more you chase, the more they pull. But standing still feels like giving up. So if you've been taking it personally, you're not weak. If you've been crying in the car after another one word answer conversation. You're not failing. If you've been wondering if your relationship is slipping away, you're not alone. You're just a mom in the middle of the hardest shift in parenting. The shift from doing everything for them to learning how to stay connected while doing less, and that is some master level work. So be gentle with yourself. You're grieving and growing, you're showing up in the season that gives you less feedback, fewer hugs, and hardly any thank yous, but you are planting seeds. They will return to, even if today they just grunt at you from under a blanket. But I wanna talk about the grief that happens at this stage.'cause now we've peeled back the science. We've named the heartbreak. We've admitted what so many of us silently carry This season is filled with the kind of grief no one warned you about. Not the dramatic cinematic grief, the quiet kind, the slow kind, the kind that settles in your bones. It's the grief of not being needed in the same way. The grief of no longer being the one they turn to. The grief of lost traditions, those summer beach days, bedtime rituals, afternoon chats that once felt sacred and now like ancient history and maybe the hardest one. The grief of still doing everything behind the scenes to keep their lives moving and being shut out of the very life you're holding up. You are refilling the snack draw, driving to and from practices, managing appointments, moods, calendars, you're anticipating needs before they're spoken. You are the backbone, the scaffolding, the reason their life runs smoothly, but you're rarely fainted, rarely seen, and often treated like an interruption. That is a very particular kind of ache. When that's hard to explain without sounding dramatic or needy, but it's real and it's valid. And then there's the battle, because it's not just grief, it is also a battle. A battle between wanting to stay close and needing to let go, wanting to honor their independence and still feel connected and giving them space and wondering if they'll ever choose to come back. You're trying to respect their growth while still honoring your needs. And that tension, it is exhausting. You're carrying so much invisible labor, emotional, mental, logistical, and you're doing it while tiptoeing around moods, attitudes, and a sense of disconnection that cuts deep. One mom told me recently, it's like I'm the backstage crew of a play I'm not allowed to watch. She said, I clean the costumes, cue the lights, make sure the actors have everything they need, and then I sit in the dark, not even invited into the theater. Can we just pause there? That's what this stage of motherhood feels like for so many present, but invisible. Essential, but unacknowledged close by, but emotionally out of reach. It's okay to feel heartbroken. Let me say this as clearly as I can. Feeling heartbroken doesn't make you needy. It makes you human. It means you've loved deeply. It means you've showed up fully. It means you've built something worth grieving, and that's nothing to be ashamed of. This isn't a weakness. This is the emotional cost of motherhood when you're doing it. Consciously, intentionally and with your whole heart. And no, it doesn't last forever, but while you're in it, it deserves to be named, felt and honored because you deserve to be named, felt and honored. So let's take the pressure off. Lemme speak directly to the part of you that's trying so hard right now. If you're in this weird, murky middle where your child no longer needs constant sunscreen, reapplied, but has zero interest in leaving their room. If you're staring at the calendar, you once filled with color coded outings, and now thinking, maybe I'll just go alone and pretend I don't know anyone there. If you're grieving the summer, you imagined sun soaked adventures, shared playlists, heart to hearts under the stars, and instead you're navigating resistance disinterest in a general sense of meh from the people you birthed. You're not failing. You are mothering in the deep end. This isn't the end of connection. It's the beginning of a new version of it. Yes, it hurts because it matters, because you care, because you built something beautiful and the shift feels like loss because it feels like expansion. So take a breath. Take the pressure off. You don't have to save the summer. You don't have to chase their joy. You just have to keep showing up with love and presence and a willingness to shift. What if just for a moment you release the idea that Summer Connection has to look like it used to? What if you stop trying to recreate your childhood memories for your child and instead asked, what kind of connection does this season invite right here, right now with this version of them and this version of me? Maybe it's no longer whole days at the beach, but 10 sacred minutes of real conversation on a drive. Maybe it's not matching their energy, but gently meeting them where they are. Maybe it's not about doing anything at all, but simply being available when they're ready. This is an evolution from playmate to presence, from entertainer to emotional anchor, from orchestra of magic, to steady witness of becoming and it's no less sacred. In fact, in its quiet, awkward, eye roll filled way, it might just be more so what's next? Next week on the podcast, we're gonna talk about what does work. I'll walk you through how to create real sustainable connection with your tween and teen this summer without losing your mind, your money or your sense of self. We're talking about micro moments, rituals, boundaries, and reimagine joy because connection is still possible. It just looks different now, and that difference, it's not a downgrade, it's a doorway. But for today, let yourself be where you are. Let yourself feel the ache. Let yourself remember those Dorito drenched, sand covered, salty haired summers of your own, because the truth is your child is still becoming and so are you. This isn't the end. This is the becoming. Thank you for being here today for showing up for yourself, for loving through this messy middle. You're doing beautifully even on the days that don't feel beautiful at all. Thanks for being here, and I will see you next week. Take care.