On the first day of school this year, I stood in my garden, quietly sipping coffee and watching the bumblebees buzz from milkweed to coneflower and then on to the zinnias and back again. There was no one I needed to urge out of bed. No lunchbox to pack. No scramble to get out the door in time to make it up Signal Mountain before the first bell.
I momentarily breathed a sigh of relief as I listened to my neighbors urging their middle and elementary school-aged kids into the car. My son graduated in May, so we’re just whiling away the days until college starts at this point. But wait…what was that sneaky prickle at the corners of my eyes? Was I actually missing the hustle-bustle of the morning school routine?
I had longed for the days when I could just get up on my own schedule. With a teen who doesn’t yet drive, the days of taking a kid to school had stretched out longer than they had for many of my friends. And while I loved every minute of that time talking or listening to music with my kids, I did not like getting up at 5:30am to get everyone to school on time or the frantic feel of most mornings. So why am I suddenly feeling this sense of loss at not experiencing the back-to-school ritual I went through with one or both of my boys every August since 2007?
A Season of Transition
Fast-forward a week, and my husband and I are moving our youngest into his dorm. As I watched him unpacking and rolling t-shirts to tuck neatly in his dresser, chatting with his roommate, I could feel my heart swelling and aching at the same time. I’ve been through it before. His older brother left for college in 2021, so this isn’t exactly new territory. But still…I am so proud of this kid – the one who has always done things his own way – and the independence he was showing, yet I was keenly aware that the shape and rhythm of our relationship was changing…just as it is supposed to, and as it has before through other transitions.
Knowing that doesn’t necessarily make it easy.
And, at the same time, my older son is in the process of figuring his life out. He graduated from college in May and put a pin in plans for grad school. He’s building a music career with a band of other delightful young musicians, and learning all about the joys of adulting.
And meanwhile, I’m once again figuring out how to parent from the sidelines…cheering both kids on in their different stages, but letting them call the shots.
As beautiful as it is to see your kids grow into each new phase of life – especially when they’re leaving your nest – it is also incredibly disorienting.
What I Wish I Knew Sooner
As a yoga and meditation teacher, I’m kind of a pro at the concept of self-care. But what I never really mastered as a mom, wife, or professional adult was the art of just slowing down. It has only been in these last few months, free from the pressures of trying to get my kid across the graduation stage while working full-time, that I have slowed down long enough to apply a lesson I teach in all of my classes to my own life: being intentional.
Now, of course, I’ve applied it in some areas. We are very intentional about what we eat, for instance. And our parenting choices have been very intentional. But when it comes to making time for relationships, special interests or hobbies, or taking care of my physical and mental well-being, so much of that has been catch-as-catch-can for the last 20-odd years of my life.
A recent trip to France with my husband was revelatory. Being able to slow down and simply focus on one another without the distraction of siblings bickering or worrying about someone’s grades or life plans for a few days was a delight. It’s almost a cliché to say that the French live life slowly and purposefully, but it really is true. And while I never made it to a yoga class while there, I did take myself shopping, made a point to seek out special places and experiences that delighted my soul, including having coffee with a friend from college who lives in Paris.
That trip became a touchstone for me, a reminder of all there is to look forward to in this new chapter, both for my kids and for myself. As they step into their own futures, I have the chance to slow down, be intentional, and savor the way my own life is unfolding. The pace is different now, but it’s rich with possibility. And it made me want to share with other moms what I wish someone had told me years ago: you don’t have to wait until the nest is empty to make space for yourself and your dreams.
What I Want Every Mom to Hear
No matter what season you’re in—whether you’re chasing toddlers, helping with homework, or teaching your teen to drive—these reminders matter:
• Make space for yourself now. Ten minutes with a cup of tea. A walk around the block. A chapter of a book. It’s not selfish—it’s essential.
• Celebrate their independence. Every milestone, from that first wobbly bike ride to their first apartment lease, is proof you’ve done your job well.
• Stay present in your season. There’s magic in each stage if we take the time to notice it.
• Your life is still yours. Dreams don’t expire just because you’re raising children.
Choosing Intentional Living
Slowing down is a choice we can make today, not “someday.” Intentional living doesn’t mean doing less; it means doing what matters most, on purpose. For me, that means creating a morning ritual, reconnecting with old friends, exploring new hobbies, and letting my kids see me live a full, joyful life outside of being their mom.
The Beauty of the Quiet
I might miss the car-ride conversations of our rushed school mornings, but I’m learning that the stillness that follows can be just as beautiful — if I choose to be present for it.
