Last week, my social media feed was full of back-to-school photos. Kids with smiling faces holding signs with their school year, kids with backpacks on and running to the bus, kids waving to the camera, siblings holding hands and walking together. Along with these photos were captions of “Mommy is melting” and “Fighting back tears” and “Very dusty in here today”. These testimonies of bittersweet emotions at how our children are growing up have been a dominant narrative this week.
Along these lines, what we don’t see are the photos of moms who are cheering and jumping for joy when the school bus arrives. We don’t read the posts that say, “I needed a break from my kid and did not shed a tear when he left for his first day of kindergarten”. We don’t hear the invisible (but still palpable) exhales of moms who have been waiting for this day to come. Representations of back-to-school experiences that deviate from the dominant narrative are far less common and are almost completely absent.
Here in Boston, we tend to be a seasonal city, and September is a time of transition for many families. That transition can look different for different families, and when your experience differs from what social media depicts as common and therefore normal, it can be challenging to discuss these differences publicly.
We read many updates that mention “all of the feels”, but what isn’t explicitly discussed often enough is the feeling of RELIEF.
For many parents, sending their kids to school brings a great deal of relief—emotionally, mentally, and financially.
During the summer, many moms and parents struggle find childcare, struggle to pay for that childcare, and/or struggle with transportation to that childcare. Parents who are home with their kids may want a break and may long for peace, space, silence, and a moment to think about what’s next in their own lives instead of constantly reacting to their kids and their kids’ needs. For many parents, school represents a free, safe place for kids to go every day—a known entity that brings routine and stability.
What does this mean for those of us professionals who work with parents and families? It’s important for us to not make assumptions and instead ask open-ended questions. By doing this, we can create space for folks to express a range of feelings—sadness, pride, worry, uncertainty, joy, and relief. The pressure to feel sad or bittersweet can be quite strong, and for moms who feel something quite different, that dominant narrative can make them feel abnormal, out of place, and like a bad mom. For a mom who doesn’t feel the way social media tells her she’s supposed to feel, the ability to speak honestly without worry of judgment can be a welcome respite from the barrage of pervasive images and messages.
We can love our kids and love being away from them. Just because we love our kids doesn’t mean that we enjoy every moment with them. Just because we love our kids doesn’t mean we’re sad every time they leave or move on to a new phase of their lives; those changes can bring comfort, relief, and security. Parents can simultaneously hold feelings that, on the surface, may seem in opposition to another, and we as professionals can normalize this.
So, yes, parents—bring on all of the feels. Really, ALL of them.
Along these lines, what we don’t see are the photos of moms who are cheering and jumping for joy when the school bus arrives. We don’t read the posts that say, “I needed a break from my kid and did not shed a tear when he left for his first day of kindergarten”. We don’t hear the invisible (but still palpable) exhales of moms who have been waiting for this day to come. Representations of back-to-school experiences that deviate from the dominant narrative are far less common and are almost completely absent.
Here in Boston, we tend to be a seasonal city, and September is a time of transition for many families. That transition can look different for different families, and when your experience differs from what social media depicts as common and therefore normal, it can be challenging to discuss these differences publicly.
We read many updates that mention “all of the feels”, but what isn’t explicitly discussed often enough is the feeling of RELIEF.
For many parents, sending their kids to school brings a great deal of relief—emotionally, mentally, and financially.
During the summer, many moms and parents struggle find childcare, struggle to pay for that childcare, and/or struggle with transportation to that childcare. Parents who are home with their kids may want a break and may long for peace, space, silence, and a moment to think about what’s next in their own lives instead of constantly reacting to their kids and their kids’ needs. For many parents, school represents a free, safe place for kids to go every day—a known entity that brings routine and stability.
What does this mean for those of us professionals who work with parents and families? It’s important for us to not make assumptions and instead ask open-ended questions. By doing this, we can create space for folks to express a range of feelings—sadness, pride, worry, uncertainty, joy, and relief. The pressure to feel sad or bittersweet can be quite strong, and for moms who feel something quite different, that dominant narrative can make them feel abnormal, out of place, and like a bad mom. For a mom who doesn’t feel the way social media tells her she’s supposed to feel, the ability to speak honestly without worry of judgment can be a welcome respite from the barrage of pervasive images and messages.
We can love our kids and love being away from them. Just because we love our kids doesn’t mean that we enjoy every moment with them. Just because we love our kids doesn’t mean we’re sad every time they leave or move on to a new phase of their lives; those changes can bring comfort, relief, and security. Parents can simultaneously hold feelings that, on the surface, may seem in opposition to another, and we as professionals can normalize this.
So, yes, parents—bring on all of the feels. Really, ALL of them.
RSS Feed