Dear Parents of School-Ages Children:
This morning as I walked both of my boys to school, there was a tear in my eye. Perhaps this little detail is a bit surprising to those who know me, who know that I marked the first day of school as "Freedom Day" in the calendar on the first day of summer. It was mostly in jest, of course, and I had always claimed that today would be something new.
It would be the start of a new life: a life without children. A life with more freedom. A life with no little hands grabbing items off shelves at the grocery store or a life bound to the children's section at the library. It would be a life without constraints; a simple life.
Today as I begin this new chapter, I'm crying. With this new life comes freedom, but it's also scary. Who will I hang out with on these long, boring days? What will I do to fill my time? Who will I have lunch with?
People often say that children grow up way too fast. I say they just grow up. People say that their children don't need them anymore. I say they will always need their parents, just in different ways.
Many of us chose this life: first the diapers and midnight feedings, then the potty training and the many stages of no, and finally school. We chose to nurture these little fledglings until they become birds and fly, fly as far as their wings can take them.
And so I say this, to all the parents with children in school: it's lonely and it's sad, but there's a comfort in it, too. There's comfort in knowing that we survived these first few years and that there's hope to survive the ones to come.
There's comfort that we'll now be able to spend more time on ourselves as well as our children. That we'll be able to recharge enough to pick them up and whisk them off to all of the other activities that they do: soccer, basketball, gymnastics, dance, piano.
There's a comfort in believing that the world isn't ending because they are in school. It's merely changing. It's scary and weird, but you will thrive. You will be able to focus on the task in front of you. You will be able to accomplish other things, different things, projects that have been sitting for years because you were never able to pick them up and complete them.
This morning, as you sip your coffee and eat breakfast (that isn't Cheerios) in a quiet house, just breathe. Let the events around you unfold as they will. Take your time. Don't become overwhelmed. You have the entire school year to get things accomplished. For now, just sit and take some time for yourself.
You earned it.
Blessed be.
This morning as I walked both of my boys to school, there was a tear in my eye. Perhaps this little detail is a bit surprising to those who know me, who know that I marked the first day of school as "Freedom Day" in the calendar on the first day of summer. It was mostly in jest, of course, and I had always claimed that today would be something new.
It would be the start of a new life: a life without children. A life with more freedom. A life with no little hands grabbing items off shelves at the grocery store or a life bound to the children's section at the library. It would be a life without constraints; a simple life.
Today as I begin this new chapter, I'm crying. With this new life comes freedom, but it's also scary. Who will I hang out with on these long, boring days? What will I do to fill my time? Who will I have lunch with?
People often say that children grow up way too fast. I say they just grow up. People say that their children don't need them anymore. I say they will always need their parents, just in different ways.
Many of us chose this life: first the diapers and midnight feedings, then the potty training and the many stages of no, and finally school. We chose to nurture these little fledglings until they become birds and fly, fly as far as their wings can take them.
And so I say this, to all the parents with children in school: it's lonely and it's sad, but there's a comfort in it, too. There's comfort in knowing that we survived these first few years and that there's hope to survive the ones to come.
There's comfort that we'll now be able to spend more time on ourselves as well as our children. That we'll be able to recharge enough to pick them up and whisk them off to all of the other activities that they do: soccer, basketball, gymnastics, dance, piano.
There's a comfort in believing that the world isn't ending because they are in school. It's merely changing. It's scary and weird, but you will thrive. You will be able to focus on the task in front of you. You will be able to accomplish other things, different things, projects that have been sitting for years because you were never able to pick them up and complete them.
This morning, as you sip your coffee and eat breakfast (that isn't Cheerios) in a quiet house, just breathe. Let the events around you unfold as they will. Take your time. Don't become overwhelmed. You have the entire school year to get things accomplished. For now, just sit and take some time for yourself.
You earned it.
Blessed be.
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