At the top of our stairs, a little double-sided easel, half chalkboard, half whiteboard, is balanced on the banister. It appeared there a few days ago. On one side, my daughter’s eight-year-old handwriting scribed, Good Morning Mom. On the other side, she wrote, Good Morning Sophie. Next to the easel is a piece of chalk for me and a whiteboard marker for her. Underneath Good Morning Mom, little notes appear daily. I love you. You are great. Every time I see one, I write back. I love you more. You are the best. And she writes back. And, I have no idea what sparked our note passing game, but I hope it never ends.

My son brings me a book he’s finished reading and now hopes I’ll read it aloud to him and his sister. He can’t wait to share the story with us.

My daughter finds the “coolest” anthill and I have to see it right now!

My children make a board game. They want to play it over and over again.

Night time comes and the things on their minds are ready to be shared even though they should be in bed.

My children, like all children, all humans, need and seek love constantly.

Yes, I will read to you.

Yes, I will watch ants, talk about ants, Google ants, watch them some more.

Yes, I will play your game. The rules change every time we play and I have no idea how you keep winning, but I will play.

Yes, I will listen, even though I’m half asleep.

I will look for your notes and make time to write back.

It’s not easy. I’m tired, the game is confusing, I’m too busy to watch ants, I just sat down for the first time in days and want to read a book of my own.

I can’t always stop what I’m doing. Somethings need my attention right now.

Sometimes though, I can stop and I choose not to. I say no, maybe later. Later may come. Sometimes it doesn’t.

I know this is normal. It’s impossible to always be present, say yes, feel connected all the time.

I also know connection making takes work, energy, the presence of mind to remember we have to make time.

Maybe that’s why it feels so special when we have moments of connection: a good laugh, share tears, feel heard, supported, know that someone gets us. Creating connections with our children (with anyone) means giving and receiving. It’s not enough to say I love you or want to connect. We have to stop, make time, listen, give a piece of ourselves, say yes.

These days I’m thinking a lot about connection. School starts today. For the last four and 1/2 years, the first day of school was just another day. My children asleep, I enjoyed a quiet morning, listened as the bus went by, and felt gratitude for all the time I knew we’d have together.

But today, school starts for us too. My oldest decided to go to a wonderful, small, charter school I know he will love. I tell him he’s still an interest-led learner. School is his interest this year. Wanting more time with peers, it is his choice.

Today, for the first time in a long time, I was on the road with the other parents and bus drivers, we waited in the drop-off line, headed home to homeschool the sister, and at 3:30 we’ll head back to town to bring him home.

It is bittersweet, this growing up. I know the moments we’ll have to connect will of course still be there. But they’ve been moved around, and the truth is, we will no longer have as much time as we used to.

What does this mean for us?

It means my son is trying something new. Being brave. Following what feels like a good fit for him.

It means my work mornings just got a lot shorter, our schedule is no longer our own, his father, sister, and I will miss him horribly.

It means I get one-on-one time with my youngest. I’m guessing in some ways, homeschooling will get easier because we’ll focus on just her interests.

It means our car rides, evenings, weekends, and family dinners are going to feel a lot more precious.

We won’t have deep conversations every morning or good belly laughs every night before bed, but today I’m holding my intention to make space for them, say Yes, stop, be present, listen whenever I can, a little tighter.

This means I have to make sure I’m taking care of myself, which looks like getting up early (5 am), drinking a lot of water, moving my body, setting boundaries around my time. I can’t be present with anyone if I’m not taking care of myself.

It means dishes, laundry, my work, the “to-do” list has to wait a minute, a chapter, the time it takes to write down I love you too. Looking back, I’ve never regretted stopping to watch bugs, a magic trick, or playing a favorite game. I’ve never regretted one more chapter, one more snuggle, the late night talks that let them get something hard off their chest.

Heading back to school. The first day of seventh grade.

To the many of us who are starting school this week- at home, in classrooms, as a parent or teacher, it’s a lot! We can’t do it all. Don’t even try. But we DO have time folks, even when it feels like we don’t, even when we’re all going in a million directions. We have time to stop, say yes, and take a moment to connect with our children.