Here we are again, the end of another summer break. We’ve had quite an eventful summer on our home front:
Annabelle got a haircut –
Scarlett made her debut –
Joey turned 10 –
Lilah lost her first tooth –
Finn turned 4 –
Kevin had his first shave (shhhhhh!) –
Daisy got a doozy of a black eye –
Michael had a birthday –
And we visited San Francisco –
I dislike the end of summer. For me, it usually comes with helpings of melancholy at seeing the end of long, lazy days and the anticipation of each of my kids moving up a grade: Kevin will be in tenth grade, Joey fifth, Annabelle and Daisy third, Lilah first, and Finn will start preschool next week. You know, that whole growing up thing, it just does me in. There’s an underlayer of guilt over not having made summer as enjoyable for my kids as I wish I could have. This year was a particularly tough summer, what with a new, very temperamental baby added to the mix, as well as my difficult postpartum period. It’s been a lot of ups and downs, and I’m still trying to get my feet back under me.
Tomorrow is the first day back to school, ready or not. I’m partly relieved that I’ll have a few hours every day to catch my breath, and that the kids will have some structure to their days again. Long, lazy days don’t tend to live up to the hype around here; my kids become positively unruly without the expectations that come with a clear routine to adhere to. But I’m also anxious about the chaos that comes with the morning rush to get everyone out the door on time, and the afternoon stress with homework, getting everyone bathed, fed, and put to bed at a reasonable time – and all that with a very demanding baby now.
It’ll all work out. It always does, one way or another.