For most moms I know, summer is a mixed bag. It’s not hard to understand why.

For mothers without access to flexible or remote work, summer break is associated with a significant drop in earnings and work hours. This tightens already tight family budgets and adds to the gender pay gap, as fathers don’t tend to reduce work hours in the summer.

Then there’s the financial (and administrative) obligation of patching together camps that cost hundreds of dollars per week, per child. Some of my girlfriends have color-coded Excel files to keep all the camps and activities straight. If only.

Because I normally miss the first hour of signup in the depths of January (truly, who can keep it all straight), my boys are the ones stuck in line-dancing and weaving lessons instead of the hit camps like Lego-building or zoology. Carting around unhappy campers in 100-degree weather and squeezing work into a shorter window is not exactly being poolside with a marg.

Then there’s learning loss; studies find that students backslide by around 20% over the summer, and more in lower-income families. This has always been worrisome, but is even more concerning these days when many students’ literacy levels and math abilities are faltering. So for those of us who can, summer comes with supplemental workbooks, reading lists and activity kits — “mommy school,” as we call it.

No wonder most mothers feel a swell of panic come May. No wonder there are suggestions for year-round school, and indeed, many public schools now offer some type of summer programming.

But while most discussions around summer break tend to be about how to “fix” summer, there’s also a defense of summer to be made. And it’s not just the longer, sunnier days. Time-use surveys suggest that summer break provides a much-needed respite for mothers in particular. (I know, I know — it might not feel like it, with the more chaotic house and all the things we just discussed. But listen to the data!)

According to a study in the Journal of Economic Behavior and Organization, when school is in session, mothers of 6- to 11-year-old children lose 35 minutes of sleep, lose roughly the same amount of free time, and spend an additional 52 minutes a day caring for others each and every day. Over the course of a week, that adds up to a whole waking day that, presto change-o, returns to American mothers in the summer. (Dads also gain some extra time, but only a third as much as mothers; and parents of 12- to 17-year-olds see much smaller time-use changes.)

According to time-use data from the Bureau of Labor Statistics, in the summer, moms travel more, exercise more, spend more time eating and drinking, and volunteer more. Time spent as the primary caregiver for children during the rush hours of 6:30–7:30 a.m. and 3–5 p.m. goes way down, by which I mean the intense supervision that comes with homework, piano practice or trying to get kids out the door in the morning. Instead, mothers are more likely to be doing other activities in the home while children occupy themselves.

Children similarly benefit from the summer schedule, when time-use surveys show that they have more free time, get more exercise and sleep longer.

And here I thought that stacking camps and activities into summer break would give me a break. Turns out there was something to be said about those 1990s summers, when every minute wasn’t scheduled.

Growing up, summer vacation felt — as most things do these days related to motherhood — much less intense. To be sure, there was a major built-in structural difference: My mother was a stay-at-home mom. But although she’d take us to the library, to the neighborhood pool, or out on errands, most of my summer memories are unsupervised, with large chunks spent in front of the television or out with friends. If my mom had a secret remote job, I’m not sure I would have known. And it was glorious.

Which is why this year, I’m bringing the 1990s summer break back. No jigsaw puzzle of camp schedules. The kids have access to a landline phone and their bikes. I’m going to (attempt to) work while kids occupy themselves. (Admittedly, that part is easier now that we don’t have a toddler in the home.) I know that I am lucky for the flexibility to be able to work this way; many parents don’t. What we once took for granted, slow summers, is now another luxury.

Summer will still come with its share of struggles. Ask me in August if I’m ready for summer to be over and how much more sleep I got.

But for those of us who are able to this summer, there’s something to be said about the looser schedule, the fewer rushed mornings, the more unstructured time spent outside. There’s something to be said about those 1990s summers. Especially for mothers.

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This column reflects the personal views of the author and does not necessarily reflect the opinion of the editorial board or Bloomberg LP and its owners.

Abby McCloskey is a columnist, podcast host, and consultant. She directed domestic policy on two presidential campaigns and was director of economic policy at the American Enterprise Institute.

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