Parenting in the Chaos — Back to School, Back to Pressure

New routines. School supply meltdowns. Emotional whiplash. If this season makes you want to scream into your car snacks... you're not alone. Here’s to showing up messy, human, and scared—but still showing up.

Back to school always sounds good on paper.

The routine will help.

It’ll feel good to have structure again.

We’ll finally get back into a rhythm.

Until it doesn’t.

Until one kid loses their water bottle on day two.

Until you're sprinting across the house looking for one clean sock.

Until the new schedule feels like an obstacle course built by Satan and fueled by PTA emails.

Back to school is a lot.

It’s not just the paperwork.

It’s the pressure.

Pressure to start strong.

To pack Pinterest-perfect lunches.

To help with math homework when your brain is mashed potatoes.

To be consistent. Present. Patient.

(And let’s not even get started on back-to-school emotions.)

🧠 The Invisible Load No One Talks About

If you're the default parent, you already know.

The mental list that never ends.

The IEP follow-ups. The therapy appointments.

The juggling of drop-off times, school supply lists, and that random spirit week theme your kid only tells you about the night before.

It’s not just "being a parent." It’s being a project manager for an entire family system—without a paycheck, PTO, benefits or a break room.

And when you’re neurodivergent, solo parenting, or holding trauma in your body?

That load?

Feels like a f*cking avalanche.

🌪️ You’re Allowed to Struggle Through the Routine

Maybe the mornings are chaos.

Maybe your kid has a meltdown the minute you put your keys in the ignition.

Maybe you’ve cried in the school parking lot more times than you’ll admit.

Same.

Doing it scared doesn’t mean you do it perfectly.

It means you do it through the overwhelm.

It means your kid gets a parent who still shows up—

with bedhead.

Functioning on dry shampoo and adrenaline.

Barely holding it together by the three hours of sleep I scraped together...

And an lukewarm iced pumpkin spice latte.

It means you give yourself permission to not fake it.

🏈🎭 My Real Life in August

Here’s what back-to-school season actually looks like in my house:

Football season kicks off in August. First game? The first Friday in September.

From then until mid-October, it’s football Monday through Friday—Practices, team dinners, weekly games across town at the official stadium.

Last year I ran the merch booth (THANK THE FUCKING GODDESSES I don’t have to do that again).

And that’s just one kid.

My youngest? He’s on a traveling theatre team.

Their fall production starts rehearsing in August and ramps to full speed by September.

2.5 hour rehearsals, three nights a week.

Another 2 hours a week for skill development in acting and dance.

Oh—and a 3-hour Saturday morning practice, too.

Did I mention his theatre lab is a 35-minute drive each way?

And all his travel fees are due in September—on top of monthly tuition and production fees.

All of this on top of regular school.

Homework. Grocery runs. Feeding tiny humans who are always "starving". Keeping the house from imploding.

This season doesn’t just demand organization—it demands resilience, flexibility, and a strong-ass coffee game.

🔥 For Those Without Kids (You Still Feel It)

Even if you don’t have kids, you probably feel the energy shift in August.

It hits the whole ecosystem.

Parents in your life are pulsing with secondhand stress.

That ripple of panic hits workplaces, social plans, everything.

And let’s not forget—Q4 is approaching.

If you’re in corporate? You’re already feeling the pressure:

Audits. Year-end tax prep. Shareholder reports.

Everyone’s acting like we’re on the final level of some capitalism-fueled video game.

Maybe you’re a teacher and a parent.

You get a double dose—from your students and your own kids.

You wipe noses. Calm tantrums. Navigate sass from teens who can barely function without a screen.

All day long. And then you go home to do it all over again with your own.

You are actual saints.

You win.

All the points. Duh.

But with whatever flavor of chaos you’re living with, here's what I can share with you...

💥 Real Talk:

Every August, I tell myself: This time it’ll be easier.

Spoiler: it’s not.

At least not for me.

My reality?

My kids are neurodivergent.

I’m neurodivergent.

I’m solo parenting, trying to balance business, bills, and backpacks.

And even with all the growth I’ve done—I still find myself spiraling when the first week hits.

Let me share the permission slip I write for myself every year.

It's yours now too.

📝 Your fall permission slip:

• You’re doing enough.

• You’re allowed to struggle.

• And you’re still showing up.

💬 Reflection Prompt:

Where are you trying to force calm when chaos is just part of the season?

What would shift if you gave yourself permission to do it messy?

Be strong. Do it scared. 💜