Back to School
There is something about the first day of school that makes parents feel about seventeen different emotions at the exact same time.
There is excitement.
There is relief.
There is pride.
There is anxiety.
And, if we are being completely honest, there is a tiny bit of sadness hiding underneath all of it.
Back-to-school season is often portrayed as a celebration for parents. The school supplies are purchased. The backpacks are packed. The summer schedule is finally coming to an end. The house might even be quiet for a few hours.
And yes—we are allowed to be excited about that.
But somewhere between labeling the lunchbox and taking that first-day-of-school picture, it hits us:
They are growing up.
The Freedom We Don’t Always Admit We Want
Let’s start with the part parents sometimes feel guilty admitting.
We are excited to get our freedom back.
Summer with young children can be wonderful. There are lazy mornings, swimming, vacations, ice cream runs, playgrounds, movie nights and days when nobody knows what time it is.
But summer with kids can also feel like an endless cycle of snacks, messes, questions, activities, arguments, laundry and someone saying, “I’m bored,” approximately four minutes after you asked them what they wanted to do.
For months, our schedules revolve around theirs.
Breakfast.
Activities.
Lunch.
More activities.
Snacks.
Dinner.
Baths.
Bedtime.
Repeat.
So when the school bus finally pulls away or we drop them off at the front door, there can be a very real feeling of freedom.
We can drink a cup of coffee while it’s still hot.
We can finish a thought.
We can go to the bathroom: ALONE.
We can work without hearing, “Mom!” from another room.
We can exercise.
We can clean the house without someone immediately undoing everything we just did.
We can go to an appointment without coordinating childcare.
We can simply have a few hours where nobody needs us for every single thing.
And that feels good. It doesn’t mean we love our children any less. It means we are human. Parents need space, too.
And Then We Miss Them
But here’s the strange thing about getting our freedom back:
Sometimes, the moment we get it, we miss the people we were trying to get a break from. The house is quiet, really quiet. And suddenly, we realize how much noise we have become accustomed to.
The little footsteps.
The random conversations.
The questions.
The laughter.
The arguing.
The constant requests for snacks.
Even the things that drove us crazy somehow become things we miss. Because the truth is, we don’t actually want them to need us forever. We just don’t want them to stop needing us so soon.
The First Day Feels Bigger Than the First Day
Every first day of school is technically just one day. But as parents, we know it represents so much more. The child who once needed us to hold their hand crossing the street, is suddenly walking into school without looking back. The toddler who couldn’t separate from us, is now confidently running toward friends. The little kid who needed help getting dressed, is picking out an outfit and getting ready independently. And we stand there smiling, taking pictures and telling them how proud we are. Then we get into the car and think:
When did this happen?
It feels like yesterday they were tiny.
We remember the hospital bracelet.
The first night home.
The first smile.
The first steps.
The first birthday.
The first time they called us “Mom.”
And now we’re buying school shoes that somehow seem too big and wondering how their legs got so long.
Time doesn’t ask permission. It just keeps moving.
The Parenting Paradox
Parenting young children is filled with contradictions.
We desperately want them to sleep through the night. Then we miss rocking them to sleep.
We want them to learn to do things independently. Then we miss being the person they needed for everything.
We want them to make friends. Then we worry about the possibility of someone hurting their feelings.
We want them to grow. Then we wish we could freeze time.
We want a break. Then we miss them during the break.
It’s a strange paradox that nobody really prepares you for:
The things you spend years teaching your children to do independently are the same things that eventually make you realize they don’t need you in quite the same way anymore.
And that’s the goal. But that doesn’t mean it isn’t hard.
The Bittersweetness of Watching Time Pass
There is a particular sadness that comes with realizing you are raising someone who is becoming their own person.
They have their own opinions now.
Their own friends.
Their own interests.
Their own sense of humor.
Their own ideas about what they like and don’t like.
You can influence them, guide them and teach them, but you can’t control every step anymore.
And that’s exactly what we’re supposed to do.
Our job was never to keep them little.
Our job is to help them become capable adults who can eventually walk into the world without us.
But knowing that doesn’t make the process any easier.
Sometimes we want to slow everything down.
Not stop it.
Just slow it down.
Give us one more summer morning.
One more afternoon at the playground.
One more year of little voices filling the house.
One more season before the clothes get too small and the shoes need replacing again.
One more chance to hold their little hand before they decide they’re too big for that.
The Joy Is Just as Real
But the sadness isn’t the whole story. There is enormous joy in watching our children grow. There is something incredible about seeing a child become more confident.
Watching them walk into a new classroom.
Making a new friend.
Learning something difficult.
Figuring out how to solve a problem without us.
Coming home excited about something they learned.
Seeing their personality develop.
Listening to them tell stories about their day.
These are the moments that remind us that growing up isn’t something to mourn. It’s something to celebrate. Every new milestone is evidence that all those exhausting years of parenting are doing exactly what they’re supposed to do.
They are becoming themselves.
And Maybe We Get to Become Ourselves Again, Too
There is another side of back-to-school that doesn’t get talked about enough.
Parents get to rediscover themselves.
For many years, our identities can become almost completely intertwined with our children.
We become the snack maker, chauffeur, homework helper, appointment scheduler, meal planner, cleaner, comforter, referee and everything else.
When school starts, we suddenly have a few hours that belong to us again.
Maybe we return to work with renewed energy.
Maybe we exercise consistently again.
Maybe we start a project we’ve been putting off.
Maybe we meet a friend for coffee.
Maybe we sit in silence.
Maybe we finally finish that book.
Maybe we simply breathe.
And we shouldn’t feel guilty about that.
Our children don’t benefit from having parents who completely disappear inside parenthood. They benefit from seeing us have interests, goals, friendships, careers and lives of our own. Getting some of our freedom back isn’t abandoning them. It’s remembering that we are people, too.
The School Bus Will Keep Moving
Eventually, the first day becomes the second day.
Then the first week.
Then the first month.
And before we know it, we’re standing at another milestone wondering where the time went.
That’s the part nobody can really prepare us for.
We spend so much of parenting waiting for the next stage.
Waiting for them to sleep.
Waiting for them to walk.
Waiting for them to talk.
Waiting for preschool.
Waiting for kindergarten.
Waiting for independence.
And then suddenly we realize:
The waiting was the childhood.
The messy mornings were the childhood.
The endless snacks were the childhood.
The bedtime battles were the childhood.
The summer chaos was the childhood.
The noise was the childhood.
And so was this moment.
So take the picture.
Let yourself feel proud.
Enjoy the quiet house.
Drink the hot coffee.
Go to the gym.
Get some work done.
Run errands without someone asking for a toy.
Enjoy the freedom you’ve been waiting for.
But when that little face comes through the door at the end of the day, put down your phone for a minute.
Listen to the story.
Look at the backpack.
Ask about their day.
Because one day, those stories will be different. One day, the backpack won’t be sitting by the door. One day, the house will be quiet for an entirely different reason. For now, we’re somewhere in between. Our children are growing up. And we are learning to let them.
We can celebrate their independence while missing their dependence.
We can be relieved that summer is over while wishing we had one more week.
We can enjoy having our freedom back while counting down the hours until we see them again.
We can be incredibly proud of who they’re becoming while secretly wishing we could hold onto who they were.
Maybe that’s what parenting really is. Learning how to hold on while simultaneously learning how to let go. And every September, when that school bus pulls away, we get another reminder that time doesn’t stop.
So let them grow.
Let yourself breathe.
Let yourself miss them.
Let yourself enjoy the freedom.
And above all, let yourself feel all of it.
Because this season won’t last forever either.
