One of my favorite parts of living in the Midwest is experiencing all four seasons in a discernible way. However, for me, the transition of summer into fall has historically been difficult. At some point, I began to dread this shift instead of looking forward to the new season. I feel a frenetic apprehension as the new schedule approaches, and it seems I’m ‘behind’ before we even get started. Planning and prepping homeschool can be exciting- but what if you are so outside of your capacity that those necessary actions aren’t accessible? There were years when I felt like I was running on a treadmill where I could never catch up, or stop and settle into the present to enjoy it- where it was near impossible to celebrate, rest or relax fully. Embracing a healthier sense of autonomy and boundaries has made our life and schedule more manageable— but transitions, especially this year, remain tricky.
This summer, I worked more than typical, while seeking out answers for health concerns (and experiencing said concerns), tackling physical therapy, experiencing new parenting challenges, and being emotionally and mentally attacked by the general state of the world. Momma is tired.
Currently, I have little control over many of the external pressures contributing to the pace of life- I can’t change the situations, or tap out. I can, however, consciously remind myself that I’m allowed to be human. I can make space to be tender and thoughtful along the way. Figuring out logistics, problem-solving, and taking action at the same time without the space to settle and synthesize is exhausting. I often need more processing time for the normal dynamics in life- time to know how I feel and what I think, to be an active and present part of my life rather than just looking back at it in a fog. While summer has been mostly hustling, sweating, and perseverance, there have been a few special moments, skill upgrades, and saving graces that are keeping me grounded through this season and into transition. How can I keep it together while trying to manage it all?
Noticing is still my gold standard and regulatory mainstay- the best method I’ve found for making the most of the small moments of rest and joy. If I only got one Friday-Funday adventure with my two youngest, you bet I was going to slow down and appreciate all of the tiny, sparkly, brilliant moments. I had no choice but to record the butterflies in slow motion, ride the carousel, and savor the sounds of children exploring the garden.
If my one-on-one time with the middle kids is lacking, I will watch the sassy hair toss, and the overblown car-dancing moves with bated breath, as we optimistically attempt to hit the highest notes in the K-pop Demon Hunter’s songs with wild abandon.
If my trips to the riverbank are few and far between, I will greet every riparian flower and frog, soak every ripple of water and rustle of prairie grass into my soul as a sensory symphony designed for and claimed by me.
If my friend get-togethers are short, sweet, and stolen, I will unabashedly cry into the best angel food cake and peaches I’ve ever been served- and have a heaping second piece. I will clutch my guts, and give myself a tension headache from laughing too hard, and tout the obvious need for our own comedic sitcom. I will gaze at the lucky country stars, fingers sticky from perfect s’mores, and thank them for these sacred, safe, cherished spaces and companions. Wordle chats, curated Instagram reels, and snail mail from Minnesota will become luxurious lifelines of connection that get me through another day.
Trust is a saving grace that is somehow holding strong in this season. I’m trusting myself to keep showing up- with improved coping skills, being steady and kind to myself and others – despite triggers, exhaustion, and fear. Self-parenting is one new skill that has been so healing for me, and Fei Wyatt, on Instagram @yourwisemomfriend is an amazing resource. While holding space for the reality my kids may experience in conflict or disappointment, I can also acknowledge that one of my deepest wounds is being rejected while trying my hardest, and parent myself through that gently- trusting we will be okay.
I also have trust that my husband and I are both working diligently to make it through this season. I know that he sees my efforts, that we are both growing and relearning, and that we have each other’s backs while facing these parenting and societal challenges.
Literature via audiobook is crucial to feed my soul during a busy transition. I’m already going to be driving or cleaning, so now I can make a dent in my Storygraph goal and my libro.fm credits, while keeping myself connected to emotion and shared humanity.
While washing dishes today, I was finishing I Who Have Never Known Man, by Jaqueline Harpman (which is masterful) and wondering if there was much value in writing about a problem I don’t really have an answer for. A short while later, in the afterword, Sophie Mackintosh states that though this book is filled with problems that cannot be solved, and much is left unanswered, it is in the process of grappling we learn the point for ourselves. Whether I consider the women in this speculative dystopian novel, the Jewish Belgian author, or my own story, it is often when our plot lines transition into the uncontrollable and unknown that we are given the opportunity to become more of an integrated human on the other side of that tumult. When we offer ourselves safety and compassion, we can reach for tenderness, curiosity, and honesty.
While the world doesn’t always offer safety or answers, we can stay with ourselves and with each other. When I meet myself and my family honestly, noticing needs and trusting connection as we persevere, the less trauma and the more joy in the transition.
