’Twas the Night Before School Starts

Not a creature was stirring—yeah, right. Who am I kidding? It’s pure chaos over here. Backpacks half-zipped, lunches half-packed, and I’m 98% sure I’ve forgotten something major. Welcome to the night before school starts as an ADHD mom, where the only thing more scattered than school supplies is my brain.

(I guess I should introduce myself)

Hi, I’m Kayla, a 29-year-old mom of three, married to my wonderful husband Zak for just shy of 11 years. I’m also autistic and have ADHD, which definitely affects my day-to-day life.

Executive function? Kind of important. But what happens when you don’t have it? What do you do when the ADHD paralysis hits, you’ve got tiny goblins to send back to school tomorrow, and the housework is already piling up?

Well, in my case, I decided it was the perfect time to follow the dopamine and start this little blog shitshow.

It’s probably going to be messy, sometimes all over the place, but it’ll be honest and real. I’ll be covering topics that might make you feel things… or at least that’s the hope, right?

The Chaos Before the Calm

Tomorrow, I get to take my feral spawn to school and drop them off for 7½ hours. In that time, while they’re being lovingly watched over by the angels we call teachers, I will get to have a coffee.

All. By. Myself.

See, all three of my babies are in school now, and honestly? I have no idea what to do with myself.

But there I go again… rambling.
Shit. My ADHD is showing.

Anyway, to get to that blissful drop-off and sacred solo coffee moment, I had to actually prepare. As in:

Get my kids on a schedule (when I can’t keep one myself)
Go back-to-school shopping (Target was my therapist this year)
Label all the supplies
Survive back-to-school night
Oh, and take a random mini-vacation right in the middle of all this chaos
Pack backpacks and lunches
Buy a last-minute outfit for my daughters, because apparently their closets are portals to Narnia and nothing in them is wearable

Finally, I managed to wrangle them all out the door, semi-put-together, without forgetting anything…
Okay, let’s be honest. Easier said than done.

Growing Up Too Fast

And it’s not just Zayne starting something new this year. My oldest is ten now and heading into fifth grade, her last year of elementary school. Seriously, how? I blinked and suddenly the tiny girl who needed me to zip her jacket is picking out outfits that I’m apparently not cool enough to comment on.

Then there’s my middle, Kaydence, heading into third grade. She’s right in that in-between stage, still my little girl but also becoming her own person with opinions, jokes, and a streak of independence that keeps me on my toes.

And here’s where ADHD plays its sneaky little trick. I get so caught up in the chaos—the Target trips, the labeling, the schedules I can’t even keep myself—that I sometimes miss the actual moments as they’re happening.

It feels like I’m constantly forgetting something. At first, it’s silly stuff, like pencils, glue sticks, or lunchbox notes. But when I stop long enough to breathe, I realize the “missing something” is bigger.

It’s that my babies aren’t babies anymore. It’s the way my girls don’t need me to walk them all the way in. It’s watching Zayne, my sweet, non-verbal little boy, take his teacher’s hand and walk into a brand-new school without even looking back.

That’s the 98% I can’t quite put my finger on in the moment, but I feel it in my chest later. It’s not just forgotten school supplies. It’s realizing the little moments slip away before I even notice they’re gone.

A Different Kind of Drop-Off

This morning, I dropped Zayne (5) off at his new school. I watched him walk hand in hand with his teacher, his little backpack bouncing, and in that split second, it hit me—all the feelings.

Relief, mostly. We made it. He’s in school. After everything we’ve been through—all the appointments, the worries, the what-ifs—we’re here. Those who know our family know just how big this moment really is.

And then? He didn’t even look back. Just strutted right in like he’d been doing this his whole life.

I walked to my car, heart full and breaking all at once. Dropping the girls off always leaves me a little emotional, but this was different.

He’s my last baby. No more midday snacks or couch cuddles while we watch Disney musicals 24/7. No more Monday park dates or spontaneous Target runs with my little shopping sidekick (who, by the way, has excellent taste in snacks). For the next 7.5 hours, it’s just me.

The Coffee Moment

So, I did what every emotionally conflicted mom does after a big milestone:
I got my coffee.

And as I sat there, sipping my overpriced latte, I felt that 98% “something’s missing” feeling. And I realized—I was missing something.

I missed my kids being little.

The End of a Chapter

In the chaotic countdown to the first day of school, I hadn’t let myself think about what it really meant. I was so focused on getting everyone out the door that I didn’t notice I was stepping out of a chapter in my own motherhood story. A messy, beautiful, exhausting chapter that I wasn’t ready to close.

But here we are. And while I may be alone in a quiet house now, I know this: we made it. My babies are growing, and so am I.

And maybe this isn’t just the end of a chapter for them—it’s the beginning of one for me too. A chance to figure out who I am when I’m not packing lunches, managing meltdowns, or binge-watching Disney musicals on repeat.

Want to know what I did on my first solo day? Read the next post in this series: Finding Myself as More Than Just Mom (Mid September)

I got a Venti Ice Chai Latte with Oat milk, brown sugar syrup, caramel drizzle, and nondairy brown sugar cold foam. It is my fave good feel starbies drink.