I’m Ready for School to Start… and I’m Already Sad About It
I’m going to say something I think every mom is thinking by the first week of August:
I love my children dearly.
They need to go back to school. 😂
There. I said it.
At the beginning of summer, I always have these big visions of what summer is going to look like.
Pool days. Adventures. Staying up late. No rushing out the door in the morning. More time together. Friends over. Ice cream runs. All the things that make summer feel like SUMMER.
And we do all of those things.
But somewhere between June and August, the magic also starts looking a little like wet towels everywhere, someone asking for a snack 14 seconds after they just ate, bedtime becoming more of a loose suggestion, and me having absolutely no idea what day of the week it is.
By August, I crave routine.
I want schedules. Earlier bedtimes. Normal dinner times. Backpacks by the door. Calendars that tell me where everyone is supposed to be.
I am READY.
And then back-to-school gets close...
And suddenly, I’m sad about it.
Because back-to-school has this rude little way of reminding you just how fast your kids are growing up.
Another first-day picture.
Another grade.
Another backpack.
Another year where their shoes are somehow three sizes bigger than the ones you swear you just bought.
And when I look back at the pictures from last August, I can already see it.
They were smaller.
Their faces were younger.
Things were different.
That’s the weird thing about motherhood. We’re constantly ready for the next season while simultaneously wishing we could slow the one we’re in way, way down.
I can be completely over the summer chaos AND know that one day I’m going to miss it.
Both can be true.
One day there won’t be three boys running in and out of my house.
There won’t be wet swimsuits thrown somewhere they absolutely do not belong.
Nobody will be yelling “MOM!” from another room every five minutes.
My grocery bill might even recover. 😂
And as much as I joke about wanting five minutes of silence, I know there will come a summer when this house is a whole lot quieter.
And I have a feeling I’m going to miss the noise.
So these last few weeks, I’m trying to remember that.
I’m going to enjoy the pool days.
I’m going to let bedtime slide a little.
I’m going to say yes to the ice cream run.
And I’m going to take the picture—even if nobody is dressed perfectly, the house is a disaster, or somebody is making a ridiculous face.
Because I think those are the pictures we’re going to want someday.
Not just the perfectly posed ones.
The pictures of what our life actually looked like.
The sun-tanned faces. The messy hair. The too-small pajamas they refuse to give up. The backyard swims. The best friends. The ordinary Tuesdays that don’t feel important until years later when you’d give anything to step back into one.
Maybe that’s part of why photography means so much to me.
I know how much a photograph can mean when a season has passed.
I know what it feels like to look at an image and instantly remember a voice, a laugh, a tiny detail you didn’t even realize you were storing away.
Photos become little pieces of our lives we get to keep.
So yes...
I’m ready for school to start.
I’m ready for routine.
I’m ready for a little bit of normalcy.
But I’m also going to soak up what’s left of this loud, messy, wonderful summer.
Because I know this version of our life won’t be here forever.
Take the pictures, friends.
Even when life doesn’t feel picture-perfect.
Especially then.
XO,
Tara