I spent the last few days finalising my month and year end, what fun, when all I wanted to do was bury my head and pray that the clock could be turned back a week.
The summer holiday disappeared into a vacuum and I loved being able to fit my life around work rather than the other way round, working when I’ve needed too rather than having too.
And now the long hazy days of summer are drawing to a close and I feel the distinct coolness of autumn in the air.
Whilst many consider January to be the start of the new year, September represents “a new year” too.
It heralds the end of summer and the transition into Autumn, it symbolises change, a new beginning and I love seeing school children turn out in new school uniforms and lovely shiny shoes.
September is a symbolic month representing a new start.
Your five year old is starting school for the very first time, your eldest leaving home for University, maybe your thirteen year old is moving up to the middle or upper school.
It’s that shrug your shoulders with a sense of resignation or that feeling you get when you know you’ve got to go home at the end of the holiday, that sinking sensation in the pit of your stomach that leaves you wanting yet you are unable to put your finger on it.
Christmas is lurking around the corner but it only seemed like yesterday you were walking around in shorts and T-shirt.
September is a long and slow trudge, it goes on forever.
We long for an Indian summer, a warm September that maintains our well being and hopefulness before the long dark days.
For those students off to University or work, it will be the first time they won’t have to put on a school uniform and conform to school rules.
It will be the start of a new world full of hopefulness and optimism.
For others, the start of school means back to old routines and timetables, the same drudgery but with different teachers.
It also means that working mothers start the same routine again for another year; the day starts by screaming at your children to get washed, dressed have breakfast and be out of the door in time for the school bus or car.
It’s exhausting just thinking it let alone writing it.
Whilst the summer meant we allowed our little ones to get away with late nights and late mornings, the start of school means homework, going to bed earlier and staying off the X-Box and PS4 until the weekends.
The ‘but you let us stay up late in the summer’ backlash repeats itself as you try to explain to your children the importance of going to bed earlier so that the brain can rest and recuperate; instead they give you that look.
The arguments that you ended on with the start of the summer holidays begin again and you want to bang your head against the kitchen wall when you have to keep repeating everything five times.
A pressure cooker simmering waiting to boil over with frustration, yet all you want is peace and calmness.
Although there was constant in-fighting and bickering, it seemed to blow over you registering little or no response.
Back to school and your pain threshold for any whining, arguing or shouting is zero tolerance.
I barely survive the month of September, I drag myself out of bed and try to start the day with a sense of purpose in my step.
By the time I get to the kitchen I am grimacing at the dishwasher, why is it so difficult for the last person to turn it on?
The thing is you know it’s coming but you’re never quite ready for the s**t storm of September.
School timetables, and after school activities, there goes your free time. Boom up in smoke.
The beauty of a long summer holiday is you can switch your brain off, no mental checklists of what items do they need today, no meal planning, just fly by the seat of your pants days.
Come September our brains have to be activated to think again, have they got everything they need – trainers, swim kit, what after school clubs on what days, the right books for lessons, shirt, tie and shoes on the right feet.
We need to know what our darlings are doing at any given time, because this has to fit in with doing the supermarket order, our work-life schedules and prevents us from becoming insane.
I said to my thirteen year old, ‘misplaced your brain have you, forgotten how to use it or do I have to remember everything for you?’
Much to the smirking from the eldest who conveniently forgot how bad he use to be until I reminded him about the time when we were two miles into the school run and he piped up Mum, I’ve only got one shoe on, the other is in the driveway!
Roll on Christmas holidays.