I’m that mom standing in the school supply aisle, misty-eyed because another school year is about to kick off, and I’m not sure I’m ready for it. I’m the one picking up shoes for feet that seem to have magically grown two sizes overnight, trying to hide my tears from the young sales clerk who probably thinks I’m a bit odd. I can’t keep the camera steady as my little one strides down the aisle as a flower girl, braver and taller than I ever noticed. I call these my “motherhood tears”—those tears that stem from an emotion that feels uniquely maternal. They’re tears of pride and gratitude, fear and wonder, excitement and the purest love.
These aren’t the tears of frustration or fatigue—believe me, I’ve shed plenty of those, too. No, these are the unexpected tears that catch me off guard, and sometimes I feel a bit ridiculous for crying over them. They are truly tears of the heart.
I once thought I was alone in this—like other moms didn’t get misty-eyed over the little things. But I’ve found out I was wrong. I’ve shared knowing glances with other moms who tear up at dance recitals or during daycare drop-offs, reassuring them that I’m right there with them. Thankfully, my friends have also admitted to having their own moments of weeping.
So, I’ve stopped trying to stifle my tears. My six-year-old daughter has started noticing these emotional moments. She caught me crying on my son’s last day of toddler class, and now she’s curious why I “cry like a mom.”
So, why am I crying as school begins again?
I’m crying because they’re one year older. No matter how many times I’ve dropped them off, I still find myself by the door, tears flowing in the car on the way to work.
I’m crying because she asked me on a Saturday morning if Santa is real, and I have to face the truth. These big moments come without warning. There’s no roadmap for these conversations—just a leap of faith that I’m handling it all right, holding my breath until it passes. And then, while stress-eating in the kitchen, I find myself sobbing over Santa because she’s at an age where belief is fading.
I’m crying because he’s about to get his first haircut. Those baby curls are my absolute favorite. They smell like no-tears shampoo and spring to life after a nap, creating the cutest bedhead. I know she’ll trim those precious curls just a bit, and with each tiny snip, I realize he’s just a little boy under those baby locks.
I’m crying because we’re at Sesame Street Live, and they adore Elmo just as much as he adores them. Is it a parenting truth that the moments we help our children experience pure joy can overwhelm us even more than they feel? I never expected to tear up while watching giant puppets on stage, but I did. Their happiness was contagious, and how could I not cry?
I’m crying because soon she’ll be on stage for her recital/play/performance. The costume, the rehearsals, the nerves. We’ll talk about it for weeks, and when the moment finally arrives, watching her sing, dance, deliver lines, or even do cartwheels, I won’t be able to hold back tears of pride, relief, and disbelief at how grown-up she is.
I’m crying because the older kids will be performing, too. They’ll be more skilled and experienced. I won’t even know them, but every time I see them shine on stage, I’ll get teary-eyed, feeling a bit silly. But those big kids? One day, they’ll be my kids, all too soon. They’ll have solos or more challenging dances, and I can’t help but wonder how I’ll cope with the fact that they’re no longer small.
And that’s why I’m crying.
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In summary, the start of a new school year brings a wave of mixed emotions for parents. Moments of pride, nostalgia, and joy often lead to tears that reflect the depth of love we have for our children as they grow and change.