As the back-to-school season approaches, it’s easy to get swept up in the excitement. I can relate to this feeling, having experienced it myself. The month before my son, Oliver, began kindergarten, I was juggling a part-time job, managing my two energetic boys, and handling the chaos of our home life. Yet, I felt compelled to spend countless hours searching for the ideal backpack for Oliver’s significant milestone into education.
My quest began at local department stores, where I explored various specialty shops, sporting goods vendors, and even some luggage outlets. After exhausting these options, I turned to the internet, scanning sites like Lands’ End and Amazon. Ultimately, I settled on a junior-sized, monogrammed, vibrant blue backpack that looked adorable on Oliver.
I followed a similar process for the lunchbox that would fit inside the backpack and the thermos that would go within the lunchbox. The journey to complete the school supply list was equally challenging—it took me to five different office supply stores. I was determined that Oliver would have the correct quantities, the requested brands, and the specific colors essential for his academic success.
I meticulously chose Oliver’s first-day outfit and even suggested that we organize his entire week’s wardrobe in a designated closet organizer I had purchased. I also indulged in a pair of new sneakers for him, despite knowing he would likely outgrow them within a month. And yes, a haircut was in order.
While it was undoubtedly a lot of work and somewhat stressful, I was proud as the first day of school approached, confident that my little boy was ready. Fast forward three years, and my younger son, Leo, was about to start kindergarten. By then, I had learned to ease up on the meticulous preparation. If I couldn’t find the exact 20-count Crayola pack after my initial stores, I realized sending him with a 24-count would be just fine. I even let go of the haircut requirement when Leo said he didn’t want one. To compensate for my perceived slack, I volunteered in the classroom and chaperoned field trips.
Amidst this, I was also balancing responsibilities as a team parent for my boys’ soccer teams, job hunting, and training for a half-marathon. Reflecting back, I often wonder why I thought finding the perfect backpack would somehow elevate me to supermom status. Prior to my diagnosis, I felt an immense pressure to embody that ideal.
About two weeks after Leo began kindergarten, everything changed. I received a diagnosis of a rare form of lung cancer—an unexpected blow for someone who had always considered herself healthy. Having lost my mother to lung cancer just before having Leo, I was understandably consumed by fears about my future and my ability to be there for my children.
The doctors believed the cancer was localized, leading to surgery as the recommended course of action. I underwent a major operation that involved removing half of my left lung. During my eight-day hospital stay, I couldn’t see my boys due to visitor restrictions in the critical care unit. I didn’t want them to witness the toll that surgery had taken on me. The physical pain post-surgery was intense, and I felt emotionally drained. I missed significant moments, including Joshua’s third-grade concert and even Halloween.
Fortunately, my supportive husband stepped in to take care of the family while I navigated my recovery, which took months. It wasn’t until the following school year that I began to adjust to a new normal.
Now, as back-to-school season arrives again, my perspective has shifted significantly. This year, I find myself less concerned about what my boys wear on their first day or the specific character on Leo’s thermos. The details no longer hold the same weight. I take a moment to breathe deeply and focus on what truly matters—hope.
I hope for the typical things any mother wishes for: that my boys will forge new friendships, excel in their studies, and avoid any bullying. But more importantly, I hope to be present next year, sending them off with less-than-perfect supplies and a heart full of gratitude.
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In summary, the back-to-school season has transformed into a time for hope and reflection rather than stress and preparation. The essence of motherhood is found in the moments shared with our children, not in the perfection of school supplies.