Here We Go Again

And so it begins—the school year, of course. We have survived three full days (officially!), which means we get to take tomorrow off to go help some friends pack their moving truck. I’m not sure if that’s a break or emotional blackmail to make school feel like much more fun in contrast, but I’m rolling with it.

Monday, I rocked it like a boss, tackling adjusting attitudes and traumatized tears like a total queen. Consequently, Tuesday, I was pretty sure death was imminent (for me, if not for the kids) and ended up taking a nap halfway through the school day in order to survive. Today, evidently we’re getting back into the groove as we finished super early, and I spent the afternoon folding laundry and writing and reading and putting together dinner (without simultaneously handing out spelling words) like it’s still summer.

But we’ll have to wait and see how Friday goes. In all honesty, though, I tried to plan fun stuff after tomorrow’s goodbyes mostly because I have a feeling that we’re all going to be somewhere on the emotional mess spectrum between artistic weeping and toddler tantrum. If a family soccer game for PE isn’t a good way to start the day, I’m going to just give up now.

As a completely unrelated side note: today for PE, I dragged the kids around the mile loop of our neighborhood and was gratified to see my five year old knock out the full mile in twelve minutes. This is not a humble brag. It’s a straight up brag. I mean, I know that genetically she received my giant height and so her legs are more like the legs of a seven year old than a five year old, but come on—tell me you aren’t impressed.

But this blog post won’t be all me bragging on my children. That would get boring—and I have managed to avoid doing that for a dozen years now and don’t want to break my track record (I also have managed to keep from sharing potty training stories—you’re welcome).

Mostly, as I’m starting the school year, which, somehow, it appears is our eighth year homeschooling (how is that a thing), I’ve been thinking again about how loosely plans have to be held.

Every year I try to plan out our school year in chunks, a few weeks at a time. It has seemed to me the most effective way for us to get things organized. I need all the little color coded boxes to check off for all the kids and all the assignments, but I also need the flexibility to change things up as we go. I need to leave room for grace.

Because if I plan all the things for the entire year, then so help me, I will make them happen. Even if it kills me. Or the kids.

I don’t do well with unchecked boxes. It makes me itchy at the back of my neck. And I know this about myself. So I try to plan in increments so that as I need to, I can adjust.

Last year, this looked like a forced break from PE for almost three straight months as I tried to get my energy back post-Covid. This year it’s going to look like seeing how we do the first couple weeks of Little’s new classes before I plan out the rest of the quarter.

I don’t know how things are going to play out just yet. I don’t know what kid is going to struggle in what subject. I don’t know where I’m going to need time for more prep work. I don’t know what unexpected stuff is going to come up to interrupt our school days. And so, it helps to hold my plans loosely…even if that means setting aside a few hours every 4-6 weeks for regular planner-filling sessions instead of feeling like everything is squared away before we ever get started.

I want perfection (everything perfectly set up, everything accomplished on schedule, everything making me look good), but what I need is margin for grace and flexibility.

And so when I say, “Here we go again,” I’m not just referring to the school year. I’m also talking about how I have the opportunity each and every day to see my limitations, to set aside my need for everything to be my way, to keep my eyes open to really pay attention to how the entire family is doing, to look for ways that our homeschool life can serve others as well as ourselves…and so much more.

So here we go again—leaving room for growth and grace…and a little give here and there.