With another summer in the rearview, the school year is creeping back in, dragging its full schedule of chaos right along with it. That means after-school activities are ramping up, and this momma is officially back on the geaux. I naively thought having another driver in the house would lighten my load a bit… but as it turns out, I’m still the preferred Uber. Go figure.
In just a few short weeks, we’ll be knee-deep in flag football, soccer, dance, school clubs, carpool lanes, PTF volunteering (our school’s version of PTA), basketball, and eventually track & field and one final recital to wrap it all up. Just reading that makes me tired.
As we start getting back into a routine—and by routine, I mean sprinting from one thing to the next—I can’t help but wish for just one more month of summer. I swear it gets shorter every year, even though the calendar insists otherwise. Over the past year, we let both boys try flag football (because why not test my sanity?)—only one is returning this season, but somehow the other is out here becoming a long jump champion. Like, placing at every meet?! Add in soccer and basketball—my personal favorite, though I do consider doubling my anxiety meds on game days—and it’s no wonder my afternoons are booked tighter than my work calendar.
Some practices are nearby. Some are across town. All of them require snacks, water bottles I forgot to fill, and a strong playlist to get me through traffic. I might grumble, I might lose a shoe (or a child’s cleat), but honestly, I wouldn’t trade it. These are the good, messy, memory-making days.
And just to really pull at my heartstrings, we have a senior this year. Yep. Senior. I haven’t even begun to emotionally process that. I’m in a GroupMe with all the other senior parents, some of whom seem far too organized and emotionally stable. They’re already tossing out timelines and tips, while I’m still trying to remember what day school starts.
As I start loading all these events and deadlines into my calendar, I can’t help but start a mental countdown. This is her final year—her last time to take the stage, to shine, to make me cry like I’m watching a Hallmark movie. She’s so ready. And we’re so proud. We’ve made it this far, and now we have one more year to pour into her before she heads off into the world.
So yes, there will be caffeine. There will be photos. There will be screaming on the sidelines and crying in parking lots (me, again). But most of all, there will be gratitude—for this wild season, and for the privilege of being the one behind the wheel, cheering them on every step of the way.
