Before You Fall Into Fall

There is a strange little window at the end of summer when nobody really knows what day it is anymore. The kids have been sleeping later. Bedtimes have become more of a suggestion. You may or may not have eaten dinner outside three nights in a row. There are probably swimsuits in a pile somewhere that you have stopped noticing. And then, almost overnight, fall starts showing up.

The school supply aisle appears. The mornings are suddenly cooler. Someone starts talking about football. Pumpkin-flavored everything begins appearing on menus. Your calendar, which has been blissfully empty for approximately twelve minutes, suddenly has approximately 47 things written on it.

Summer is ending. And honestly? I think most of us have mixed feelings about it.

There is something wonderful about the freedom of summer. There is also something wonderful about knowing what day it is again. Fall has a rhythm to it that summer doesn't always have. School starts. Activities begin. Work schedules settle back into place. We pull out the jeans and sweatshirts and remember that our children apparently grew three inches since May. But before we rush headfirst into the next season, it might be worth taking a minute to actually transition. Not reinvent ourselves. Not organize our entire lives. Not buy matching storage bins and decide that this will finally be the year we become people who meal prep every Sunday. Just transition.

Start by admitting summer didn't go exactly as planned. Maybe you had big plans for this summer.

Maybe you were going to read all those books. Take the kids on all those adventures. Finally organize the garage. Make homemade popsicles. Go on more walks. Spend less time on your phone.

And maybe you did some of those things. Or maybe you didn't. That's okay. Summer doesn't need a report card.

There were probably days when you did something wonderful and days when everyone ate cereal for dinner and watched a movie before noon. There were probably moments you want to remember forever and moments you would happily delete from the family highlight reel. That's normal. Before moving into fall, take a minute to remember what you actually enjoyed this summer. What worked? What didn't? What do you want to carry with you?

You don't need to recreate the whole summer. Just notice what made it good.

Maybe it was sitting outside after dinner. Maybe it was saying yes to spontaneous plans. Maybe it was having slower mornings. Maybe it was finally realizing your kids don't need an elaborate activity every second they're awake. Those things are worth carrying forward. Then look at your calendar before your calendar looks at you.

Fall has a sneaky way of filling up. One activity becomes two. Two become four. Add school events, church commitments, work, appointments, birthdays, sports, and approximately 900 pieces of paper that come home in backpacks, and suddenly you're wondering why you're tired by September.

Before everything gets started, take a look at what is actually coming. Not with the goal of fitting everything in. With the goal of deciding what deserves a place. There is a difference. You don't have to say yes simply because something is available. Your kids don't need to participate in every possible activity. And your family doesn't have to be busy in order to be doing well.

Leave some empty space. Future-you will be very grateful. Give your house a little reset.

This does not mean you need to deep clean your entire house. In fact, I would strongly discourage beginning a 37-step fall home transformation when what you actually need is to find the missing lunchbox. Start small. Put away the summer things you're actually finished with. Pull out the clothes your kids can still wear. Figure out which shoes mysteriously disappeared. Wash the water bottles. Locate the backpacks. And maybe don't buy anything until you know what you already have. Because there is a very good chance you own approximately seventeen pairs of black leggings and no socks.

Fall doesn't require a personality makeover for your home. Sometimes a reset is just clearing the kitchen counter and finding the floor of the mudroom.

Think about your evenings. Summer evenings can stretch forever. Fall evenings don't. Suddenly there's homework, dinner, practices, showers, lunches to pack and someone who desperately needs poster board at 8:47 p.m. So before the schedule gets crazy, think about what would make evenings feel a little easier. Maybe it's having five really easy dinners you can rotate through. Maybe it's setting out clothes the night before. Maybe it's making Sunday afternoon the time you look at the week ahead.

Maybe it's deciding that not every night needs to be productive. The goal isn't to create the perfect routine. It's to create a rhythm that helps your family breathe.

And don't forget yourself. This one is easy to skip. We're often so focused on getting everyone else ready for the new season that we forget we're entering it, too. What do you need as summer ends?

Maybe you need a haircut. Maybe you need to get back into a hobby. Maybe you need a night with friends. Maybe you need to get back to walking in the mornings. Maybe you need to make time for something that isn't connected to work, children, laundry or keeping everyone alive. You don't need to earn that space. You are allowed to have a life in the middle of everyone else's schedules. And maybe that's one of the best things about a seasonal transition: it gives us an opportunity to ask what we want this next season to feel like. Not just what we need to accomplish.

Not just what needs to get on the calendar. How do we want to live? Because fall will fill up whether we are intentional about it or not. The question is whether we will fill it ourselves. So pull out the calendar. Find the backpacks. Buy the apples. Put away the swimsuits. Make a dinner plan (or don't).

Take a deep breath. Summer doesn't have to have been perfect for fall to be good. And you don't have to have everything figured out before the leaves start changing. Sometimes preparing for a new season simply means making a little room for it. And maybe finding the missing lunchbox while you're at it.