By Vanesa Brashier, publisher of Bluebonnet News
Every August, my Facebook feed turns into one big first-day-of-school scrapbook, and I love it.
There are tiny kindergarteners carrying backpacks almost as big as they are, middle schoolers pretending they don’t want their picture taken, and high school seniors smiling for what their parents know will be one of the last first-day photos they’ll ever take.
I try to stop and look at every single one of them when they appear in my Facebook timeline. I enjoy the photos, not because I wish I could go back to those times in my life. I don’t. I enjoy the stage of life I am currently in. I simply love seeing other parents experience a season I was blessed to live for 37 years.
Because of the age difference between my oldest and youngest children, my life revolved around school calendars for nearly four decades. There were school supplies to buy, lunches to pack, projects that somehow weren’t mentioned to me until the night before they were due, and mornings when we were all trying to get out the door on time.
I enjoyed those years, but let’s not pretend they weren’t exhausting.
There was one stretch of life when I had two children in school, was attending college full time, working full time at a newspaper 40 miles from home, and nursing my youngest daughter, which meant spending every lunch break feeding her while trying to scarf down a sandwich, and then rushing back to work. Somewhere in the middle of all that, my stress level got so high that I broke out in hives.
My doctor looked at me and said, “You have to give something up.”
Well, college wasn’t an option because I’d already invested too much time and energy into it. I couldn’t give up the kids because they knew where I lived. (Just kidding.) I had to work because, well, food and electricity are nice. That left nursing. My youngest was 9 months old, and as hard as it was, it was the one thing I could realistically let go.
Looking back, I’m still not entirely sure how I survived that season. I just know I did.
Today, the school calendar still shapes much of my schedule, only from a different perspective.
Covering multiple school districts means August is filled with back-to-school events and all the excitement that comes with another school year. Before long, there will be student achievements, awards ceremonies and graduations to cover. I’m still following a school calendar but in a much different way these days.
I’ve never been one to spend much time looking through old photo albums. In fact, I don’t think I have a single photo album. The old photos are in a box in my closet. It’s not because those memories aren’t precious. They are, but old photographs also remind me of people I wish were still here. I’d rather make a new memory than spend too much time wishing I could relive an old one.
So when I see all those first-day-of-school pictures, I don’t wish those children were mine again. Instead, I smile and sympathize for the parents rushing around to make sure everything is in place for their children. I know they are both excited and tired.
If they’re juggling work, kids and about a dozen other responsibilities, I know they probably can’t imagine a day when life slows down just a little. I promise you one day it will. One day, it won’t be quite so hectic.
Now, before anyone gets upset with me, let me say this: Empty nest syndrome is a very real thing. I’ve watched friends struggle with it, and I understand why. When you’ve spent decades pouring your life into raising children, it’s only natural that a quiet house feels strange. My experience was just a little different.
The biggest adjustment for me wasn’t when my youngest graduated from college and moved on. It happened years earlier when my two oldest daughters moved out. All of a sudden, the house felt different, quieter. I had to get used to not hearing them come through the door every afternoon.
By the time my youngest left home, I think I had already built up a little resilience. I had learned that every season brings another one behind it. Life has a way of filling the spaces we think will stay empty.
When I get home, there is a pretty good chance one of my grandchildren will wander through the door.
Tyler will want to tell me all about his latest Minecraft conquest and why looting Netherite armor after a PVP duel is a really big deal. Leah may ask if she can make a few dollars by shearing my Australian shepherd before teaching me the newest Korean words she’s learned on Duolingo. Kyle has been known to show up with an overnight bag because he decided it is time for Tactical Granny—the nickname he gave me after deciding I was pretty good at video games—to play another round of Halo. Not to brag, but I am actually quite good at it.
Every now and then, one of the grands will decide it is time for a red Coke run. That one happened completely by accident. One day, one of the grandkids poured a shot of Big Red into a Diet Coke. Instead of pouring it out, they tried it. Now it’s become one of those silly little family traditions, and if someone announces it’s time for red Cokes, everybody knows we’re headed to the corner store.
My point is that I am trying my best to live in this current season of life. Tomorrow, I’ll write another story. One of the grandkids will probably wander through the back door. Somebody will eventually talk me into a red Coke run.
Before long, graduation season will arrive. I’ll be standing behind a camera somewhere, trying to photograph one ceremony while mentally calculating how quickly I can get to the next one. It happens every year, and somehow we always make it work.
Then another school year will begin, another round of first-day pictures will fill my Facebook feed, and I’ll stop to look at every one of them.
Not because I wish I were back there, but because I am grateful I was there once, and I am just as grateful for where I am now.