Amy Dunkin

I'm looking out my office window at today's last-blast wintry mix of sleet and snow in New York, and thinking about the summer. Not with longing for the sunshine and warmth, but with a bit of dread about the complicated schedule I've arranged to keep the kids gainfully occupied while their parents have to work.

Two boys, five different camp programs. This is insanity.

In the past, we shipped them both off to a terrific, full-service daycamp a few miles from where we live. How lucky we were to have a place like this so close by. Camp bus stops at the house for morning pickup at 8:50, drops them off again at 4:15. If a kid gets sick or we want to flit in for a quick visit, we can be there in minutes. I know the directors and many of the group leaders for years because my kids went to preschool there as well.

Such carefree, easy summers. And now...

The older one will go to sleepaway camp for a month, then return home to a week of summer enrichment in our school district and two weeks as an old timer at the local daycamp.

The younger one wants more sports. So he's doing a week of baseball, then soccer, then lacrosse camp at a state university campus a half hour from our house. After that, he'll go to an ice hockey clinic for five days, take some enrichment classes for a week, and return to the local daycamp for two weeks with his brother.

The worst of it: I still have pages and pages of forms to download and fill out.

And when summer arrives, I'll need a spreadsheet to figure out who's where and when.

Before it's here, it's on the Bloomberg Terminal.