August 28, 2025
“Blog. Orientation Sick Feel.”
This is the note I penciled in my planner/notebook as I drove with my family to attend my daughter, Lily’s, middle school orientation last Friday.
Y’all, that pretty much only covered a portion of the emotions I was having last Friday as we entered that middle school, even though my daughter was wickedly excited. I felt sick with worry and anxiety. I felt weepy – I cried! – with the knowledge that my baby girl is somehow old enough to go to middle school. I wanted to throw up because I was straight-up overwhelmed with all the information they gave parents about our new normal. It was way more emotional than I ever could have expected.
I mean, I’m not a monster. I DO have and feel really big feelings. I’ve approached many of my children’s milestones with really big, bursting feelings – pride, excitement, anxiety, disbelief, joy – but I’m going to be honest. I don’t typically cry at these big moments. I easily cry for other random reasons – when I’m really mad, when I hear a certain song, when I look at baby pictures, when I’m on mile 22 of a marathon. But on Friday, my big feelings burst wide open at the idea of middle school and I weeped on and off all weekend.
And on Monday, as I sent her to school, I cried, and then came to meet all of you for our Meet-the-Teacher Day. At once, I remembered that everyone walking into the building on Monday (or on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday) was also feeling those really, big bursting feelings for their own children’s milestones.
The first day of preschool.
The last first day of preschool.
The first day of kindergarten.
The first day of middle school.
The first day of college.
Y’all – it’s hard and special and celebratory all in one. It’s the disbelief we carry that our children can be “old enough” to tackle their first or another “milestone” day.
Transitional days are special. They are also raw and emotional. These days challenge every instinct we have as parents. We inherently want our children to be successful without us, using the skills that we have taught them, while at the same time, heartbreaking because they are, well, without us. We want our kiddos to run into their preschool classroom with excitement, but dang – it hurts when they do not turn around and say goodbye to us. Peace out, peep. On the flip side, we don’t want to leave our child who may be crying and calling for us – because that hurts our hearts so deeply.
Watching our children grow up is a wonderful and complicated thing.
The good news here is that God has created us with a sense of wonder and bravery and love that has prepared us for these moments. He has created our children to be exactly the same – brave, strong, adventurous, wonderful and blunderful, all at the same time. And because of this, our kids will be okay, no matter what transitions they are going through now as they start a new school year. Because of this, we will be okay, no matter what big, bursting, raw feelings simmer from within us. God’s with us, always. God’s with our children, always. I do find peace with this.
One of my favorite shows is How I Met Your Mother. There’s an episode where Lily (not my Lily, but the character Lily) is in the middle of heartbreak and jealousy. She stalks her ex’s new girlfriend through NYC. It starts raining, she hurts her knee, and she ends up hobbling down the street with her coat over her head, looking like a little troll. In her desperation, she growls out in a fake deep voice, “Hey! Hey you!” and terrifies the poor girl.
Here’s the clip: How I Met Your Mother – Scene: Lily chasing Chloe
On Monday, when I walked my Lily and a few kids from the neighborhood across a busy street so they could walk themselves to middle school, I followed slowly behind them. I had our dog, who was taking his sweet time, and so the distance between the kids and me grew further. I had a pep-talk with myself. “You don’t need to follow them!” But I did. I let my momma’s heart and anxiety simmer to the surface and I followed them until there was a bend in the road and I could not see them anymore. Naturally, I did what any normal mother would do – I walked into the street with the dog, crouched down, waved like a crazy person, and whispered, “Bye Lily, bye!” over and over again. At that moment, Lily turned around, saw me, and waved.
When she got home, she told my husband, in detail, how I stalked her in the road and embarrassed her beyond belief. My sweet husband looked at me and just said, “Oh, honey.”
Sigh. I’m just a troll, y’all.
So maybe I embarrassed my daughter, and maybe I looked like a troll in the middle of the street. But if loving our kids fiercely through every transition makes us trolls, then I’ll wear the title proudly. Because this troll loves big, cries big, and trusts that God is big enough to carry us both.
And friends — this troll also believes that God is big enough to carry you and your children, too.
I’ll leave you with the mantra that has been carrying me this week, shared by Pastor Laura in Sunday’s service:
“I am the one God made. I am the one God needs. I am the one God will use.”
xoxo
Until next time,
Jess