I always get melancholy at the end of summer and the beginning of a new school year. I remember when my kiddo was 5 and starting kindergarten and how exciting it all was to have a little bit of time to myself finally! And I blinked, and now she’s 10 and going into fifth grade. And I realize how fleeting the years are. Someone once said to me about raising kids: “The days are long, but the years are short”. I think that’s the most accurate depiction of the passage of time I’ve heard.
The summer for me is a welcome break from the grind. It’s full of lazy mornings and late nights and sitting on the couch watching High School Musical 3 snuggled with my girl. It’s for pool days and zoo days and trips to the farmer’s market. It’s for road trips to see cousins and playing driveway basketball.
The school year holds a lot of promise, too. I will certainly get more done around the house. The laundry maybe won’t pile up as high, and the tumbleweeds of dog fur that blow across my wood floors might get swept up in a more timely fashion. I’ll be able to focus more on my cooking endeavors. And my regular trips to the gym after school drop off will resume. I plan to read The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up: The Japanese Art of Decluttering and Organizing by Marie Kondo. I am excited to tackle the closets and drawers.
But it also means tight schedules and rigid waking times. Carpool and school activities. And homework. Lord, the homework. And so many forms to be filled out.
But most of all, the start of another school year means another year has passed without my permission, and in another blink I’ll be helping her with college applications. Slow down, time. Just slow down for a bit.