A Little JM Running Through My Brain

August 24, 2022

Last night, John Mayer put on another Raise the River show. We've been talking about it for a few weeks now, which got (even more) JM lyrics running through my brain. And one part of one song, feels like my Summer of '22 anthem:

The summer's over, this town is closing They're waving people out of the ocean We have the feeling like we were floating We never noticed where time was going

Do you remember when we first got here? The days were longer the nights were hot here Now, it's September the engine's starting You're empty-handed and heavy-hearted

This comes from Mayer's 2013 hit, "On the Way Home." It has been a bit of an end-of-summer go-to for several years, but after this summer, it lands differently. I go back to work tomorrow, and H begins school (full days!) next Tuesday. The thought of uninterrupted time to be with my babies is what got me through yet another exhausting school year, and knowing it is coming to an end is devastating...and liberating. And that's a lot to navigate. I wrongly assumed that it would get easier each year going from full-time teacher to full-time at-home parent. It’s not. It’s simply different, and that too is equally challenging and freeing, but mostly challenging to consider.

As summer approached, I began planning for all the minutes. I wanted to do everything and show my kids that I was all theirs all the time, which I felt so incapable of during the school year. It was a lot. Soon, that "heavy-hearted" part of the song found me. It has been a summer full of amazing things and deep feelings. Every day became a countdown, and as I navigated myriad emotions and my own mental health, which when neglected quickly spirals, I wondered how I would ever recharge. It was getting harder to make each day this unattainable kind of 'special' I had crafted in my before-summer mind. How would I ensure I was ready for that time when "the [teacher] engine's starting"? As July became August and meetings began taking over my calendar, I really wondered if I was good enough to go back to the classroom (I had turned off my teacher brain almost entirely, and certainly unlike I ever had before) or good enough to be home with my kids full time. What was my value if not as a teacher and not as the mom I hoped to be?

After a lot of sleepless nights, chats with other mamas and teachers, long runs, and even a few ugly-cry with BRunn, here is where I've landed: Life is hard and messy, and parenting is another level of hard and messy, and that's okay. Whatever I can do, whoever I am, that's enough. And it's like my little girl knew I was struggling. As we lay in bed last night, she turned to me and said, "Mama, I love you! Can you even believe how much I love you?" I told her I couldn't believe how much she loved me and how lucky I was to have her and her brother. I asked her if she could even believe how much I loved her. She smiled, gave me a kiss, and said, "I would be so sad if you weren't my mama. I love you. See you tomorrow, Mama." I wiped a few tears and reminded myself that grace is the best gift I can give myself. It's the best gift any of us can give...to everyone. It's the gift my babies give me every day, even if they don't know it. For them, I'm enough, even when I feel like I'm barely making it work.

After I tucked H in and made my way back to my room, I scrolled though my photos and reminded myself of the joy we shared, the joy the Runnells crew cultivated this summer, even when I felt like I was coming up short, when I was struggling a little more than I was willing to let on, when life and my mind were extra messy. As Glennon Doyle says, "We can do hard things," and this summer reminded me that hard things can be good things.

So, my dearest John Mayer, it turns out that I'm neither "empty-handed" nor "heavy-hearted" as I have so much to look back on and so much to look forward to. My babies had an amazing summer and 10 weeks where they didn't share me with anyone. That's a pretty great gift I was able to give them, that I put in the work to give them.