I left my son in his new classroom at his new school at 8:13 a.m. yesterday. It was a frenzy of Ticonderoga pencils and blunt-edged scissors marked with little names and my son’s mild embarrassment that I’d placed his snack in the fancy snack pouch I’d bought him instead of the Ziploc bag he’d asked me to use. (Ah, the illegible mercury of what is cool among seven-year-olds.) It was “good to see you” and “when does your older one start school?” over the heads of twenty pairs of wide eyes. It was everything new or new again. He permitted a small hug. I looked at him sitting at his desk with his name taped onto the faux-wood surface and I saw every earlier version of him. The one I rocked to sleep on the floor of his Manhattan nursery, the one toddling behind me down the empty hallway of our new home in Bethesda, the one whizzing around the cul de sac on his scooter, a blur of bandaids and shaggy blond hair. And the one from yesterday, too, the lanky one sitting on the dining room table in his pajamas working on the mushroom puzzle we’d started together.
This is nothing new, this is nothing new, I kept reminding myself as my legs moved down the hallway, as my mouth made mild conversation with another mother, as my spine arced its way into the car to drive home. My body was doing these things, but my heart was somewhere up the hill.
He has been at school for years now; this is nothing new, I repeated as I cleared the breakfast dishes he’d left on the counter. The half-drunk glass of orange juice, the roll of napkin around his fork and spoon — I suppose he does this to make it easier to carry them in from the table. I looked over at the dining room table, the partly-finished puzzle. His absence everywhere. I sent the photo of him in his new uniform, gamely posing with the “First Day!” flag by our front door, to my sister, to my mother, to my best friend, to my brother, to my sister-in-law with benign messages belying my mute agony. I zoomed in to study his face. Then I walked into the pantry, ostensibly to return the oatmeal and pecans to their stations, stepping over his red Pokemon-studded Crocs as I rounded the corner, and cried in front of the water bottles.
All morning, I have been this way. Forging lists, answering emails, making chipper conversation with my daughter, organizing things I’d forgotten to send in with him by the back door (paper towels for the class! how had I omitted them?) and then hiding in the bathroom or my office with tears streaming down my face. Which is to say: I’ve passed the morning engaged in the usual September occupations of a mother.
So again, I remind myself: this is nothing new. Not for me personally or for mothers generally.
The reminder does nothing to buoy my spirit. Because no, it is not new, this rending feeling; it is as familiar to me as the fit of his hand in mine, the sound of his voice through the door in the morning, the specific pattern of his footfall on the stairs (you could blindfold me and have two hundred boys run down the steps and I know which one was Hill), but it feels as freshly-sharpened as those pencils he proudly organized in his little kit in the classroom this morning.
The fall cleaving never gets easier, does it?
(Related thoughts: Permutations of love, and a reflection on those moments in motherhood when you unexpectedly find a whale at the end of the reel. On the reassurance side of things: today is not the final draft.)
A September Playlist.
On a more grounded note, a great fall playlist to listen to right now thanks to Ralph Lauren. Listening right now and it’s just right for the moment. Acoustic and slightly moody.
Two September Poems.
Two September themes I love that capture the feeling of movement, transition, things waxing or waning.
“September” by Grace Paley
“September Garden Party” by Jane Kenyon
Other September Things.
+Donni pants are selling fast. (Try code MALLORY10). Such good colors – I’m envious of those espresso gingham ones! These are such a great pair of pants for fall. Easy to style with a Mini Marin (or Tuckernuck’s just-launched look for less option) or a button-down as an alt to jeans and a tee.
+Salomons in a cool fall colorway. Pair with my favorite running shorts in the new espresso colorway and a matching half-zip (use code SHOOP20).
+Per usual, Me + Em has the coolest, chicest twists on things. I can’t stop thinking about this knit tee/scarf situation – you can style it so many different ways. J’adore! Also love this dress and this wool blazer with the smart red piping. (While you’re there: extra 10% off sale. I’m insanely tempted by this cropped tweedy cardigan situation. Imagine with dark rinse denim!)
+My new fall mug. Can’t wait to drink morning coffee out of it! (I also have to mention, again, how much I absolutely LOVE AND ADORE their breakfast bowls. The absolute perfect size for a bowl of oatmeal, yogurt with granola, cereal, fruit in the morning, and the pattern reminds me of a robin’s egg. These charm me so much for some reason.
+Great Tuckernuck fall basics: this striped button-down (the face-framing stand collar is SO GOOD), this silk-cashmere blend bandana scarf, the aforementioned William knit (perfect in all colors), and this striped tee.
+A splurge, but this fringed cashmere jacket is absolutely fabulous. I own in a camel color from last fall and it’s absolutely perfect layered over everything this fall — jeans and a tee, a brown floral fall dress, cords…! Try code GIRWELCOME10. Don’t forget to snag one of their bandana scarves or cowhide scarves before they’re gone for the season.
+Big labor day sale launched at J. Crew Factory. I love these promotions to stock up on basics for the kids. I got Hill one of these rugby shirts, these slim-fit jeans, and a few of their performance polos. These slim-wide jeans look like a great look for less for the popular J. Crew ones you all have been snapping up.
+I just noticed that these adorable (reversible!) playmats I shared last week are now 20% off.
+I made a batch of these Simple Mills cinnamon streusel oat flour muffins yesterday for Hill’s snacks this week, and was surprised at how delicious they are! I thought they were going to be a sort of sneaky healthy thing but they actually call for melted butter and vanilla and eggs and this makes them delightful. I just ordered a few other flavors from both Simple Mills and King Arthur. I figure these will be good to have in the pantry to whip up on Sunday afternoons / before the kids have friends over.
+I guess I was having a Suzie Homemaker moment because I also ordered these fancy bakery-style muffin liners, a new muffin tin (colored!), and these enamel mixing bowls.
+Tis the season for new notepads. I love the joyful ones from Joy Creative Shop!
+Cutest new fall patterns in my favorite couch blankets.
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You captured the back-to-school feeling for mothers so deftly, Jen. This idea that we are raising our children to leave us and competently start their own lives is both affirming and heartbreaking. I feel this acutely as I send my oldest off to her junior year of high school. Two more years until she is off to college, sigh. The cleaving is a hard thing to bear, but it is nothing new. Thank you for your beautiful writing.
Aw – solidarity, Megan! Thank you so much for the kind words and companionship here!
This was so poignant and lovely, Jen! We start school in August, and this year my son is a seventh grader, which blows my mind! I snuck a quick photo of him as he was walking into school, and compared it to the one I snuck last year, My, how differently his backpack hangs on him now, My boy! There’s such joy in watching our kids bloom…but our hearts always ache a little, too. Wishing Hill a fantastic year and wishing you joy as you continue to nourish your kids with the firm foundation of home and family.
This is such a sweet note, Sarah Jane. My heart ached a tiny bit when I thought about the difference a year can make with the backpack relative to their body! I just sent my son off in a backpack that totally dwarfed his frame and he walking up the hill next to an 8th grader wearing the same backpack and it was tiny on him! I couldn’t believe the contrast.
Thanks for the solidarity here!! Sending you love —
xx
I’m pre-feeling it!! Next week is the first time both of my two will be at school. My heart!!
Aw – Kelly! Hang in there mama. Sending you love!
My son is 12, in his second year of middle school and relatively settled but I still get first day of school jitters. I eyeball the clock. I watch my phone in case I get a call about something. I have trouble focusing on my own work, putter around, and ultimately show up too early to pick him up waiting anxiously. This year he sauntered out like he owned the place, declared it a good day and left it at that. Despite that, I’m sure next year will be exactly the same on the first day.
I so relate!!! The separation agony! Thanks for the solidarity and reminder that this is such a common experience. Makes me feel less alone!
xx
I was so blue my daughter’s first two days of school this year (first grade, new school). She was doing great, but I was in such a funk! Ah the “same, same” of motherhood – it is so reassuring to hear others walking the same path and feeling the same (surprising but not) feelings.
Thank you so much for the solidarity. Yes, “blue” is how to describe it!! xx