I hate September.
I hate August as well, but I hate September the most.
It’s September that gives us anxiety and throws off our groove and causes us to feel weird. It’s September that takes my little ones away to school and daycare and throws me back into the trenches of work. First days for everyone and we’re all nervous wrecks. It’s September that brings early wake ups and new schedules and homework. New alarm clock set for 5:50 AM. Ugh. September is the worst.
September brings last minute first day of school signs and school picture outfits because you forgot that happens today. Throw in a big dose of insecurity because whatever we came up with is not as good as everyone else. September kickstarts a new season of drag-me-down-mom comparison because other moms do some really cool stuff and well, for me, September means just getting by.
September is not when I do cool stuff.
September brings new teachers and new workloads for kids and different classmates to get used to. September just took your child’s best friend and tossed them in another class. Seriously? Please September, can’t you be more kind?
September asks us to rush back downstairs at bedtime because you forgot to make your kids’ lunches and find snacks to toss in backpacks and are you kidding me?! You don’t like Cheez-Its anymore? Ugh. September brings learning what kind of snack your kid will actually eat because let’s admit it, we don’t really know anymore. September makes us not even really know what we like anymore.
September is quite terrifying if you ask me. It’s a whole world of unknowns and for a family that thrives in knowing what’s coming next, there really isn’t anything as scary as jumping into all the unknowns that September brings.
September makes my baby cry every day at daycare drop off. Geez, September, go pick on someone your own size. September has me checking my phone more, looking for signs that my kids are okay. That they’re okay without me, I guess.
I can’t even stand that I wrote the word September so many times just now. That’s how much I hate September.
September is the worst.
But then, like with the promise of suffering that September brings, something incredible happens each year.
The other day I stood in front of a class of tiny four year olds (because that’s the other part of my life- the part where I get to be “mom” to twenty other little people) and we sang the calendar song. Then it happened. I looked to the month and Oh, sweet, love! September was done! And just like that, September vanished into the bin under my teaching easel labeled “Calendar.” I buried it deep in the bottom of that bin. We said “So long, September!” and I kid you not, the air cleared, my heart stopped pounding, and my chest let out a big sigh. We wouldn’t have to look at September for another 11 months.
Hello, routine we already know.
Hello, classmates that have become friends.
Hello, no more tears at drop off.
Hello, slower sips of coffee and longer chats with friends about something other than how I’ve been feeling like a failure lately.
Because with saying good-bye to September and hello to October comes a feeling of survival and a clinging to hope.
It gets better after September. It gets much, much better.
Until you remember all it takes to put together those Halloween costumes. In which case, hello, plastic, store-bought anything you can find for cheap!