Minus a handful of months two years ago and a peppering of preschool hours, at least one of my kids has been home with me… since 2006. To say I’ve been waiting for September 2021 for over a decade doesn’t feel like that big of a stretch.
(And it’s here! Everyone! It’s finally, finally here!)
Like most of us, I soaked up the summer as best I could, balancing swim meets and cannon ball contests with deadlines and laundry. I spent August in a strange tension between enjoying the kids and wistfully daydreaming about sending them all away. For the entire month, I put everything and anything important in a Deal With Later pile.
I now have four kids in three different schools, and our mornings have been relatively chill. The kids wake up starting at 6 a.m. and trickle out the door slowly— which is to say that by the time we walk to the elementary school with my two youngest, I’ve been up for hours.
I really hoped I could begin a new morning routine this school year. I wanted to get up early and hit the day hard. Really slam out reading, praying, writing, exercise. By the time the kids left, I wanted to feel accomplished, like I’d already crushed the day.
The problem? The only thing I come remotely close to crushing in the mornings is two cups of coffee. And even then, it’s more like a slow savor than any aggressive guzzling.
It’s only been two weeks, but I’ve been chastising myself for how long it takes me to really wake up. My onramp to the day feels miles long.
And what I didn’t consider when I envisioned my school mornings is just how much the kids still need me. How available I have to be. Lunches. Computer chargers. Matching socks. Clean masks. Mom, where’s my water bottle?
My youngest is seven, and she’s our best sleeper. I wake her up each day an hour before we have to leave with a sing-songy gooood mooooorning and then rub her back till she stirs. She moseys out of bed and into the bathroom. She lingers over breakfast, takes her time getting dressed. It might take her ten minutes to put on socks. It drives me crazy.
So one day, I let her sleep in—thinking a little more shut-eye might help her move faster.
But no. Her speed is her speed. (That of an inebriated sloth crawling up eleven flights of stairs—I kid). No matter how much direction and instruction I offered that morning, in the rush, I became frustrated—and so did she.
The next morning, I woke her up early again, all to give her the time she needed to ease into the day.
Which got me thinking. Maybe I need to accept my speed is my speed, too.
For many of us, September brings new rhythms, and with it, some recalibration. But inherent to recalibration is trying to reset to some known variable, some established level or rate.
This September, in particular, we have to remember that so much has changed. And maybe too much has changed for us to go back to the old settings. Our baselines aren’t just off. The entire system needs reprogramming.
And this, too, takes time.
So whether you’ve welcomed a new baby into your life this year or are sending your first little one to preschool, it’s okay to still feel out of sorts. Maybe you started homeschooling or, like me, are sending all of them off for a few hours each day. Be kind to yourself as you establish habits and expectations for the day.
Maybe you’re a coffee chugger with to-do list items crossed off before 6 a.m. Or maybe you’re a fellow slow-sipper wiping sleep from your eyes. Either way, join me in giving ourselves (and each other) permission to make the morning—the whole day, really—what we need it to be in this transition.
We’re all figuring this out together, again.
To long onramps and patient mornings,
Sonya
