Yesterday my three kids and I were running late.  It is not uncommon for us to be behind schedule on a school day, but yesterday was the first day of school! I wanted it to be a morning of calm. It was anything but.  Despite the fact that the morning was not going so well, I decided the extra time for a photo shoot was worth it.  For the last 10 years we have had a first day picture and this was not the year to quit! Instead of being present to what was actually happening–the anxiety of the first day, the unknowns each kid was facing, the stress each felt about running late and about school starting, I insisted on taking pictures.  It didn’t work. Go Figure. We got in the car and I drove to school.  Fortunately, no one was late.  Unfortunately,  I had no pictures to share.

On the way to school,  after my eldest finished yelling at me for attempting to take the annual picture, she calmly said, “Mom, you could take the pictures on the second day of school.” Silence.

Yep.  It was that simple.  With her one short sentence imbued with kindness, she said exactly what I needed to hear:

She reminded me that I am not a perfect mother. I don’t have to be and there is no such thing anyway.

She reminded me to pay attention to how people are feeling. The kids couldn’t take pictures and smile because they didn’t feel like smiling!  Their awesome summer break was over and school was starting.

She reminded me to notice that by running late, fighting, forgetting things upstairs, and yelling at each other, we were all coming from a place of fear.  Fear about not being in control, of not being ‘good enough’, of failing and of being alone.

She reminded me to notice that by insisting on taking a picture, I was avoiding my own fears and anxiety about the first day of school and how the passing of time is filled with great joy and also sadness.

It is now twenty-four hours later, a few tears  have been shed and I attempt to refocus on paying attention to WHAT IS.  I wake the kids up with a  cheerful ‘Boker Tov’ (good morning).  There is  calmness in the house and no one is yelling.  There is cooperation and companionship.  We are ready early and I have to say to L who has her backpack on and is getting in the car, “We are too early.  We can’t leave yet.”  To which G said, “Mom, you have never said that sentence before!” We all laugh. We laugh and marvel at this oddity of preparedness and ease going on in the house.

I then suggest we try for a Second Day Picture.  They follow me outside. I take out my camera and they decide to give me a hard time. I fret  again about not getting a school picture. I notice my anxious reaction and I think, “It is what it is. Go with it.” I join in on their fun. It was the best First Second Day-Of-School picture session ever.

It is real. It is mine.