ADHD, motherhood, & summer vacation
9 ways to manage the love-hate relationship with this annual tradition
It starts before we even leave.
The groceries, the planning, the packing. The stressing to wrap up work. The laundry!
The to-do list grows longer, and the window for completing it grows smaller. I tell myself I’ll pack early this time, that I’ll be the mom who meal preps all the dinners, thoughtfully packs all the road trip snacks, and lays out coordinating outfits. That I’ll log off work gently and glide into vacation like the summer breeze itself.
But instead, I scramble.
Scramble to wrap up emails and send last-minute updates. Scramble to find my kids’ swimsuits that fit, the sunscreen that isn’t expired, the matching socks. Scramble to remember what I was just doing five seconds ago. Oh yeah, laundry!
Then I find myself scrambling to reorganize my kitchen cabinets, because it has NOTHING to do with packing.
My family has a special word for this inevitable pre-vacation scramble: a “packing whammy”. And, like my father before me, I have become a MASTER of the whammy.
Vacation is pitched to us as an escape, the reward for all the work and mothering and mental labor we do. But for moms with ADHD, vacation starts as one more massive and difficult transition. One more mountain of logistics. One more swirling, noisy, socially-loaded experience where heightened executive function is required at every turn.
And I always wonder:
Will I ever actually enjoy this?
I start each trip keyed up, a tightly wound ball of overstimulation and overcompensation.
Why is everyone yelling? Where is the bathroom? Why did I think a rental home with no blackout curtains and a less-than-adequate septic system was a good idea?
And then, slowly (always more slowly than I’d like) something shifts.
I stop checking the time and the structural integrity of the porch railing.
I start seeing the people in front of me.
I become mindful of the beauty of my surroundings.
I lean into novelty and spontaneity.
I start laughing, resting my head on the back of my neck.
I turn off all my daily alarms (except my medication reminder!). I sleep in.
Soon, I’m barefoot on a porch, drinking a peppermint tea, and looking out into nature.
This is the part I forget every year. The part where I get to feel like a person again. The joy sneaks up on me.
Why is it so hard to “get there”?
Here’s what I know: “getting there” is just part of the process for those of us neurospicies who live in tenuously-managed chaos as a default setting. Those of us whose brains crave novelty, but panic at every transition. For us moms who never feel like we can fully turn off.
But, over the last several years, I’ve started figuring out what helps.
Here are nine things that lighten the load - enough for joy to find me a little quicker each time I settle into a summer getaway:
Let someone else drive - Literally and figuratively. I used to think I had to do it all to be a worthy human being. My husband, who is our road warrior, plans most of our trips now, while I focus on packing for the family. He books the plane tickets, plans our stops, and does much of the research on where to eat and what to do. This passenger princess helps pick hotels and prioritize among his suggested attractions, and this sharing of duties works well to ease the mental burden.
Simplify the clothes situation - I used to overpack by categories (six shirts, five pants, four sweaters), and I would still end up without a coherent outfit among them. Now I pack in outfits (like a neurotypical!). One per day, with two extras in case of accidents or mishaps. If you have laundry on-site, think about outfits you can repeat.
In general, the less clothing you have to manage, the easier life is (see my Instagram reel below). Donate the stuff that sits in your closet just in case the clothes you actually wear aren’t clean. Now, I only have ONE laundry bin for myself… when it’s full, I wash it! This helps clothes be already available when the packing begins.
Keep a go-bag - Toiletries stay packed at all times in a small pouch, and I continue to “live” out of my toiletry bag at home. This may not work for everyone, so you could always consider having two sets of toiletries - one for home and one for travel (my husband does this). This eliminates the executive function of remembering every little item you use to get ready, and lessens the chance that you’ll forget the all-important deodorant or toothbrush.
Medication!!!!!! - I’ve said it many times, but it bears repeating. While I manage my neurodivergence with a multitude of methods, therapies, and tools, it is medication that remains the single most important aspect of my ADHD management. Medication has saved me from white-knuckling my way through the first two days of vacation for the last several years. It’s been life-changing.
Bring comforts - I bring my pillow, my tea, my favorite snacks, my coziest clothes. I don’t wear my contacts on the drive. I want to be as comfortable as possible, minimizing sensory issues that add to nervous system overload. I pack Ibuprofen for the inevitable first-day travel headache.
Respect the transitions for what they are - The first day of vacation always feels strange. So does the first day back home. I used to panic, thinking I was doing something wrong or backsliding. Now I expect it, and prepare for it. The first day is a bridge, not a destination. Sometimes you simply have to accept the inevitable discomfort of transitions until it passes.
Travel more, not less - Avoidance feeds anxiety. The more I travel, the more I understand my needs around it. The more I build systems that work. The more I see that I’m capable of doing hard things with big rewards.
Disconnect, fully - This one is the hardest for me. For years, I worked through my own vacations to keep everything afloat. I didn’t believe others should have to carry my load (and let’s be honest I was always too disorganized to hand anything off). But that’s what teams are for, and I always return the favor. It doesn’t mean I’m replaceable. It means I’m supported.
And this doesn’t just apply to work. One of my best vacations ever was when my phone fell out of my back pocket into the toilet on day one (before they were made waterproof). Put the phone down and enjoy.
Mix it up - Plan a balance of trips to familiar spots and new adventures! Alternate between vacations that require less thinking and ones that require more. This will help satisfy the parts of you that need routine as well as those that favor excitement and novelty.
……………………………………………………….
Vacation has never been as simple as a suitcase and a beach towel for me. And while it’s gotten easier since my ADHD diagnosis, it’s always been a complex and multi-layered pursuit.
Anxiety and preparation. Guilt and perfectionism. The (not-so) quiet panic that I’ll forget something, miss something, mess something up.
But now, I also know it’s layered with something else: possibility.
I’ve learned to architect my vacations around joy, not by removing the hard parts, but by softening their impact. By building in breaks, lowering the bar, and asking for help before the whammy.
ADHD doesn’t disappear on vacation. Motherhood doesn’t either. But neither does the me that exists beyond both of those things.
The version of me that runs straight into the lake, combs the beach for perfect shells, lingers in bookstores, stays up late doing Harry Potter puzzles with family, belly laughs until it hurts, plays an extra game of Go Fish with my kids, and watches the sky miraculously change from blue to pink.
That version of me is always waiting. Even if it takes me a little longer to find her.
Loved this Liz! Who'd figure I'd learn life lessons from my baby. Thanks for sharing. MOM