School Is Beginning and I’m the One in Tears

self insemination kit

Here I am, a mom standing in the school supply aisle, feeling a rush of emotions as another school year approaches. I’m the one purchasing shoes in a frantic hurry because my child’s feet have grown two sizes overnight, all while trying to hide my teary-eyed gaze from the young sales associate, who might think I’m a bit peculiar. I’m the one behind the camera, unable to steady my hand as my little one walks down the aisle as a flower girl, revealing just how much she has grown and how brave she truly is. I call them motherhood tears—those unique, heartfelt emotions that seem to spring from a place only mothers can ever truly understand. They are tears filled with pride, joy, fear, and an overwhelming sense of love.

These tears aren’t born from frustration or exhaustion, even though I’ve shed plenty of those as well. No, these are the unexpected moments that catch me off-guard, leaving me feeling a bit silly for crying. They are simply the tears of the heart.

I once thought I was alone in feeling this way—believing that other moms didn’t get emotional over the smallest of things. But I quickly learned I was mistaken. I’ve shared knowing glances with other moms during dance recitals or at daycare drop-offs, silently affirming that I understand. Thankfully, my friends have openly admitted to those emotional moments too.

Now, I don’t bother holding back my tears. My six-year-old daughter has started noticing these moments. She once caught me crying on her brother’s last day in toddler class and now asks why I “cry like a mom.”

So, why do I find myself tearing up as school begins?

I cry because they are another year older. No matter how prepared I think I am or how many years I’ve been dropping them off, I’m still that mom crying by the door and sobbing in the car on the way to work.

I cry because she innocently asked me on a Saturday morning if Santa is real, and I have to give her the truth. There’s no warning for these monumental moments. They come out of nowhere, leaving me holding my breath and hoping I navigate the conversation correctly, all while stress-eating in the kitchen, realizing I’m shedding tears over Santa because she’s now old enough to doubt his existence.

I cry as he gets his first haircut. Those baby curls are my absolute favorite, smelling of no-tears shampoo, and always so perfectly tousled after a nap. I know the stylist will trim those precious curls, revealing a little boy beneath them, and I can’t help but feel a twinge of sadness.

I cry at Sesame Street Live, watching them beam with joy as they see Elmo. Is it a truth of parenting that our children’s pure joy can overwhelm us even more than it does them? I never expected to be emotional watching giant puppets perform, but how could I not cry when their happiness radiated so brightly?

I cry as she prepares for her big performance, whether it’s a dance recital or a play. From the costume fittings to rehearsals, we’ll talk about it for weeks, and when the day finally arrives, I know I’ll be a mess of pride and joy, both amazed and bewildered by how grown-up she has become.

And I cry because older kids will take the stage too. They’ll be more polished and experienced, with more lines and solos. I’ll feel a bit silly tearing up for kids I don’t know, but I can’t help but think that one day, those big kids will be mine. It’s a reminder that they are growing up faster than I can comprehend, and soon enough, they’ll be the ones delivering solos and leading performances.

That’s why I’m crying.