Are You Happy Your Kids Are Back In School? Why Mixed Back-To-School Emotions Are Normal + What To Do
I pulled out of the elementary school parking lot on the first day of school, my coffee still hot enough to burn my fingertips, and turned my 90s pop playlist up so loud the steering wheel vibrated. I’d just hugged my two boys goodbye, taped their dorky hand-drawn first day signs to their backpacks, and promised I’d be there waiting when the bell rang. But as I turned onto the main road, I grinned so wide my cheeks hurt. Then I immediately felt guilty. Was I a bad mom for being this relieved to have the house to myself?
I ran into my neighbor Lisa an hour later, walking her golden retriever at the park near my house. She was carrying a half-eaten chocolate chip cookie, crumbs on her t-shirt, and she told me she’d already finished an entire episode of her reality show that no one in her family will watch with her. Then she wiped a crumb off her chin and admitted she’d cried for 15 minutes after dropping her oldest off at middle school, because he wouldn’t let her walk him to the door anymore. We stood there for five minutes, nodding at each other, because neither of us fit the narrative you see online. You’re either supposed to be sobbing into your empty coffee mug, missing your babies like crazy, or dancing in the kitchen celebrating your freedom. We were both.
My older son switched schools this year, and he spent the week before bed biting his nails and asking if the other kids would like him. I spent most of last summer breaking up fights over Xbox controller time, negotiating screen limits, cutting up apple slices for snacks that would get left half-eaten on the counter, and dragging everyone to the pool when all I wanted to do was finish a work project without being interrupted every 10 minutes. I love those boys more than anything, but by the third week of summer break, I was counting down the days to school. But on that first morning, when I hugged my older son, I could feel his heart beating fast through his t-shirt, and I wanted to keep him home and cancel the whole thing just so he wouldn’t be scared. It wasn’t one or the other. It was both.
I talked about this at a parent coffee with my boys’ school counselor a few days later, and she said this is way more common than anyone talks about. Most parents think there’s a “right” way to feel when school starts, but almost everyone has some mix of happiness and sadness, relief and regret. She didn’t tell me I needed to do a big emotional journaling exercise or talk through all my feelings with a group. She gave me three small, doable things that have stuck with me. First, instead of pushing one feeling away because you think it’s bad, just name both out loud to yourself or one person you trust. It doesn’t have to be a big speech. I’ve started saying it to my husband at dinner most nights: “I’m so glad I can go to the grocery store alone this week, and I missed them more than I thought I would today.” That’s it. Naming it takes the power away from the guilt. Second, carve out 10 minutes a day for the thing you’re happy about, and 2 minutes a day for the thing that feels hard or sad. I drink my coffee on the porch every morning before work, no emails, no kid interruptions, that’s my 10 minutes. Before I leave to pick them up every afternoon, I pull up one silly photo from summer on my phone (usually one of them covered in ice cream at the county fair) and look at it for 2 minutes. It’s enough to acknowledge that something changed, without taking away from the quiet I get to enjoy. Third, if your kid asks what you did all day, you don’t have to lie and say you missed them so much you did nothing but clean their room. I learned that the hard way on the first day. Sam came home and asked what I did, and I almost lied before I remembered what the counselor said. I told him “I got all my work done early, I drank a whole hot cup of coffee without reheating it three times, and I missed you a lot too.” He just shrugged, pulled a jagged rock he found at recess out of his pocket, and said “that’s cool, I had fun too.” Kids don’t need you to be miserable without them. They just need you to be happy to see them when they get home.
I’ve noticed this weird quiet judgment at drop off, too. Last week I saw a mom laughing as she walked to her car, and another mom mumbled under her breath about how “some people just can’t wait to get rid of their kids.” But I know that mom. Her son has severe ADHD, and summer was really hard this year—he struggled without a routine, he had a lot of big meltdowns at home, and school is the place where he feels successful and safe. She wasn’t happy to get rid of him. She was relieved he’s somewhere he can thrive. Happiness about back to school doesn’t mean you love your kid any less. It just means you’re human, and human beings can hold two opposite things at once.
Today, I picked the boys up from school, and they spilled apple juice all over the back seat of the minivan, fought over the last fruit snack in the bag, and talked over each other so loud I could barely understand any of their recess stories. I got home and mopped a mud print off the living room rug that my youngest tracked in on his new sneakers. After their bedtime, I sat down on the couch with a glass of iced tea, and the house was quiet. I’m glad they’re back in school. I’m glad they come home to me every afternoon. Some days I’m more of the first, some days more of the second. No one gets a prize for feeling only one way. Right now, that’s enough for me.
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