As the season is on the cusp of turning, that September (even though it’s August) back-to-school feeling of getting my life back together is nudging at the corners of my mind. I want to get my supplies, organize my schedule, my life, my pencils.
The only problem is, I don’t have an actual need for supplies. I don’t have much in the way of a schedule to organize. The open flexibility of being a stay-at-home mom with a toddler leaves days and seasons wide open. I have to create a structure as opposed to follow one. By not working a traditional job, by not having anyone in school yet, with nothing acting as an external mirror to this internal sea-change, I’m not sure what this seasonal change will look like going forward.
The only true mark of this seasonal shift besides my internal barometer is that today is the last day of our nanny share. It seems like just yesterday I wrote about my kiddo starting it and how emotional I was about it. Unsurprisingly, I’m very emotional on this end of it as well.
I knew going in it was going to be short-term. The other kiddo in the share is starting preschool and our nanny is starting full-time with a new family. My husband and I felt good about it being a temporary situation because we were so new to the experience and didn’t know how our kiddo was going to do with a whole new caretaker.
But now I’m just sad that after finding someone so special, it has come to an end.
He has loved her. He asks for her and looks forward to seeing her. The fun they have, the exciting outings she takes them on, the thrill of playing with other kids without his mom hovering over him asking if he wants a snack/water/jacket/sunscreen.
Witnessing another caretaker learn about and love and care for my son has been a real joy. She is so nurturing but firm, kind and fun. Everything you want for your kids when you leave them with anyone other than their parents.
Even though I knew this day was coming, have known all summer long, I don’t have a plan going forward. My kiddo is losing social time, I am losing my guaranteed chunks of quality writing and me time, but I’m still not sure what the next phase will look like.
I am sad, but surprisingly, I’m not worried. I’m not fretting. For the first time in a long time, I feel totally grounded. I feel settled and calm and present about all of it. I am unsure how I will get my needs met, my son’s needs met, or what the next season holds. We may try to find another nanny, our current nanny may find some space in her schedule again down the road, or I may come up with a new solution entirely. I just don’t know. This would usually would have me so unsettled, but instead I feel a sense of chill that I don’t normally harbor about change. Should I be worried that I’m not freaking out? Maybe I’m growing?
Or maybe it’s because I know this is our last year at home together, just the two of us, before he starts school next Fall. Maybe it’s because with every day that goes by, the more capable I feel as a mother and as a writer. Maybe it’s because the world is in such chaos that my worrying capacity is used up by the bigger issues. Maybe it’s because I am grounded in a place of perspective as a result of the world’s issues, that my little family is healthy and thriving and I need not fuss over trivial things. Maybe it’s all of the above.
To every season, turn, turn, turn.
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