Alana Smith
As a kid, those were the worst words in the history of words. The second my mom started talking about buying school supplies and getting a haircut, I felt the summer wind being sucked from my sails.
“It’s over,” I’d think.
Goodbye late bedtimes and sleeping in. Goodbye pool days and ice cream trucks. Goodbye mid-week slumber parties. Goodbye freedom. Goodbye fun.
That last night of summer always felt like the end of an era — the end of what you knew. Summer is just so easygoing and comfortable, and school isn’t. And I was always anxious about the new school year. What is my teacher going to be like? Who will I sit by? Do I buy my lunch or bring one? What will everyone else be doing? What if my new shoes aren’t cool?
I vividly remember my first day of seventh grade. I was dressed in my brand new, Limited Too jeans. I was ready. I’m sure my mom paid $100 for that outfit, which was a lot of money, especially back then. But little did I know, that over the summer, Abercrombie and Fitch and their distressed jeans came to town, and that was the style now. It was a bad day for a 12-year-old who didn’t have something with A&F on the tag. I missed summer real bad that day.
But as a mom, the end of summer has a different feel to it. I love slower days and no-homework nights, but there is a bit of chaos that accompanies summer break. After 76 days without a routine, it makes parents a little weary. If you are a working parent, it’s also expensive to find care for those weeks, so getting back into the swing of school is a relief. Plus, figuring out the logistics of eight weeks of summer camp will make you see stars, honestly. If you’ve stayed home with your kids for 76 straight days, you are probably seeing stars by now as well.
“It’s over.”
And while I’m a little bit relieved to start back to school and our routines, I’m also sad to see another year go by. My oldest will never be in first grade again, and my youngest is one step closer to kindergarten. You realize how big they are when they are holding a “First Day of Second Grade!” sign and smiling their snaggletooth smile.
I’m also filled with that same seventh grade anxiety, but for my own child. Will he have someone to sit with? Will he love his teacher? Will she love him? Will he be kind and be a leader? Will he know where to go? Will he make new friends?
We have no control over any of this, really. All we can do is buy the backpack and the shoes, and tell them they are kind, smart and loved. They have to do the rest. And, they will. Then they will get through the first day of school and triumphantly say, “It’s over!”
Alana is a nurse anesthetist, writer and boy mom (ages 7 and 2), who lives in north Shelby County with her husband, kids and Boxer, Sam. When she’s not writing or chasing little humans, she can usually be found in the aisles of Target. She shares her writings at Holy Moly Motherhood (on Facebook and Instagram), where she takes on all things motherhood and marriage.
