The last week of the school year is a special kind of chaos.
Teacher Appreciation Week gifts, Field Day snacks, Recital seats to claim early, tissues tucked in my purse for graduation ceremonies — none of it is a big deal on its own. But mom has to remember all of it.
This year, my son graduated from Pre-K to Kindergarten. The school held a little ceremony where each child walked up, said their name, and answered one question: what do you want to be when you grow up?
Firefighter. Vet. One girl said princess. Then — six out of ten said YouTuber.
When my son's turn came, he stood up very straight and announced, with complete seriousness, that he wanted to be a "children's scientist." Then he paused and added: "Also a YouTuber."
The whole room laughed.
I laughed too. But my eyes were stinging. Not because it was funny — because he meant every word. Whatever a kid this age says their dream is, they mean it completely. That sincerity is exactly what got me.
My daughter's chapter ended with her taekwondo and gymnastics Recital. I sat in the audience filming on my phone, thinking: she's kicking higher than last year. She's grown so much. That thought made a quiet loop in my chest, and I reached for the tissues again.
Last day of school.
The gate opened and out they came — kids streaming through like a dam breaking, backpacks bouncing, faces wearing the expression of a school year finally, fully released.
"Mom! It's SUMMER BREAK!!!!!"
I took their backpacks. The combined weight hit me all at once: wow. Summer is really here.
Every year around this time, my Taiwanese mom group starts revving about their flight tickets.
Some families pack up the moment school ends and fly to Taiwan for a whole month — grandparents, night markets, convenience stores, swimming pools every afternoon. I've done it too. I know what that summer feels like.
But this year, we decided to stay and really explore America.
This country is so big — every state, every region has its own personality. Going somewhere new here feels just like going abroad. We decided to go in stretches, starting with the state we know best: California.
Long weekend, we teamed up with a few families, rented a cabin in Yosemite, and went fully unplugged together. About 5 hours from home.
We hadn't been in the car long before the battle started.
My daughter wanted her music. My son wanted his podcast. They went back and forth in the backseat for fifteen minutes, at a volume that competed with the GPS.
Good thing I'd prepped them: long drive, bring your own book, your own cards, your own snacks. Do your own thing.
At some point, the noise just stopped.
I checked the mirror — my daughter had opened a travel book and was tracing a map route with her finger. My son had his sticker book out, head down, page by page, quiet.
I thought to myself: phew — hope this peace lasts a while.
Outside, California's dry golden hills rolled past toward the mountains.
This summer is off to a good start.
