This fall, there’s something different in the air for me. It feels like settling in, growth, and entering a new era for our family. We had a beautifully simple summer, and, per usual, it flew by. In June, it seemed like the next few months stretched out ahead of us, full of endless adventures and small moments to enjoy. I feel like I looked up the other day, and my kids had each grown at least an inch. The leaves in our yard are showing the earliest signs of change. The energy in our family feels restless and ready for new beginnings. For the first time in a long time, I feel ready.

For the first time in 11 years, all three of my kids are in full-day school… in the same school system. I’ve watched friends hit this milestone and noticed, from afar, what a relief it seems like: ONE school calendar! ONE school bus stop! A whole day of work without interruption! But now, as I arrive here myself, I’m realizing that it also heralds a new chapter for our family. And it’s not as bittersweet as I always assumed it would be.

The morning I dropped Mateo off at kindergarten, it felt like a cinematic moment—one I had been anticipating since he started preschool. I expected to feel some kind of longing for those little, squishy baby years. I expected a pull at my nostalgia—and my uterus—for all those tender, small moments that have so clearly passed us by. But I didn’t feel any of that. Instead, I felt awe that my smallest human is so ready for this new chapter in his life. I felt pride at how he navigated an experience that he was, surely, at least a tad nervous about. I was moved by how he joined up immediately with friends he knew, and his big brother, and took the moment in stride. I didn’t cry—not even a little. And I am A CRIER. Major, of course, strolled into 3rd grade like he’d been doing it his whole life.

That same morning, I put my 11-year-old daughter on a bus to her first day of middle school. Readers, when I pulled the door shut, I sat on the floor and sobbed like a baby. The next era of parenting is here.

When my kids were babies, and the nights were sleepless, and the moments of frustration and worry held more questions than answers, I remember being puzzled by some words of wisdom I received from friends with older kids: “Small kids, small problems. Big kids, big problems.” At the time, I scoffed. What could be worse than my toddler giving my newborn croup and dealing with steam showers and Menty B’s for a full week? Now I know there is something worse, and that’s putting a piece of your heart in a metal can with wheels, and sending them off to a full day of independence surrounded by hormonal preteens. At least, when I was growing up, this was the worst experience. By a mile. My middle school experience was horrific—the source of a ton of trauma for me—and something I’m maybe still not over. Being a tween in the ’90s was the Wild West of “F around and find out.” You didn’t have a computer or the internet, you didn’t know anything about anything until your peers taught you (judgementally), and administrations had a centuries-old method of dealing with bullying: They’ll figure it out.

Thankfully now, at least where we live, the middle school experience is light years different than the one I grew up with. There is an Emotional Intelligence curriculum, there are orientation days, there is a celebration of differences, there are in-house counselors, and there is an awareness that 11-year-olds are still little girls and little boys. And that does comfort me so much. Plus, my kid is amazing. She has so many tools in her toolkit that I never had at her age. She has great communication with us, she is resilient and good-hearted, and isn’t trying to grow up too fast. It makes me so emotional how much better prepared and suited for this era of life she is than I was. And I think that’s why I weep. I’m grateful. I’m proud and cracked open to this new experience that “Intermediate Level” (LOL) parenting will bring. It will get so much more complex from here. I don’t know if I’m ready, but hopefully, Marlowe will give me the grace to figure it out with her.

I’ve always loved the fresh start that fall brings—the recommitment to routines and our best versions of ourselves again. Our family is collectively turning a page to a new chapter, and it gets to be whatever we want. I think of all the things I imagined parenting to be before I had kids; this was the one I overlooked the most: WE WRITE THE STORY. I’m very much looking forward to seeing the adventure unfold.

Photographs by Julia Dags | Copyright © 2025 Happily Eva After, Inc. All Rights Reserved.

Shop The Post…