Not Looking Forward

There is a particular feeling that shows up for me this time of year. It arrives quietly, usually disguised as an email reminding parents that the first day of school is almost here. Depending on the moment I read it, I can feel pulled in two directions at once.

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If I had opened that email last Monday around 4:35 in the afternoon, after listening to my two daughters argue over a single can of hairspray, my reaction might have been different. Or after asking them, for what felt like the twenty-third time, to stay in their own rooms. Or while mediating a heated debate about who was better at Wii Bowling. Or comforting a seven-year-old who was crying because her sister’s character stood too close to her lane at the virtual bowling alley. The kind of argument where someone insists they are touching you while not actually touching you at all.

On days like that, I understand why some parents feel ready for school to start.

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People sometimes ask if my girls really argue, given their age difference. They do. They are sisters. Especially this time of year, when everyone is hot, overstimulated, and running on a loose schedule. There are moments when I catch myself thinking that school starting might help. But excitement has never really been part of it for me.

This season has always carried a quiet heaviness. It feels like the ending of something. Summer. Freedom. Long days that stretch out without much structure.

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I know how fortunate I am to be home with my kids, and I never forget that. I genuinely love the noise and the mess of having them here all day. Summer is my favorite because it loosens everything. Less rushing. Fewer clocks. More time together. I have lived through enough school years to know how quickly these seasons slip past, which is probably why I cling to them the way a drowning woman clings to a life preserver.

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This was the summer my oldest learned to drive. That alone brought a flood of emotion. It felt like a marker, a sign that this might be the last summer that looks like this. Next year she may be driving herself places, spending more time with friends, maybe even working. So when she asked to practice driving, I said yes every time. When her instructor mentioned she had plenty of experience, I laughed. She does. Her mother has been holding on very tightly under the perfectly reasonable excuse of practice.

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This summer was full in the best ways. Family time. Practice homework sheets. Reading, mostly done by them, which made me both proud and slightly unnecessary. Daily cheer practices, soccer camp, pool parties, and a first sleepover for a certain seven-year-old. We spent two full weeks with grandparents, the kind of time that reminds you how much you miss when you live far apart. Those weeks made it clear how much better life feels when everyone is together. They also made it very clear that a dog would be a good idea.

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There was a lot of Netflix this summer too. Documentaries, movies, and shows watched together. Ella introduced her Mamie to Barbie’s Life in the Dreamhouse, and it quickly became a shared favorite. It surprised me how funny it was, even as an adult.

A few favorites this summer:

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Our favorites

Paul Williams Still Alive

Remote Area Medical

Tig

20 Feet From Stardom

I Hate Christian Laettner

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Anna’s Favorites

Grey’s Anatomy

Secret Life of an American Teenager

Pretty Little Liars

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Ella’s Favorites

Gilmore Girls

Barbie Life in the Dreamhouse

Pioneer Woman

Powerpuff Girls

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As summer winds down, I don’t feel the rush of excitement that some people talk about. My kids are ready in their own ways. They are looking forward to friends, routines, new teachers, and new experiences. I love that for them. I just don’t feel the urge to celebrate the ending of these days.