My youngest just started high school, and my life as a "school-kid mom" has totally changed.

The past, the future, and the excruciating opportunity of being right where I am.

I sent my oldest child off to kindergarten twenty years ago. Yesterday, my two youngest, pictured above, went off to high school - Clara starting ninth grade, Owen a senior.

Being a mom of high schoolers isn’t new for me. Since my first foray into “school mom life” twenty years ago, I've seen all five kids all the way through elementary and middle school, and three of them have graduated high school.

And sure, it’s been a bit bittersweet to watch the older kids move from one milestone to the next, but I always took their strides…well, in stride. After all, I always had a younger kid or two still bringing up the rear, with their complicated school-supply lists printed on brightly-colored paper in whimsical fonts, their adorable backpacks and pencil boxes, their gap-toothed school photos.

I remember the days when buying and organizing school supplies was an hours-long process. First, I’d compile five kids’ lists into a single document, which I’d take to the store. Then at home, I’d put five brown paper sacks on the dining-room table, each labeled with a child’s name, and chuck crayons and colored pencils and No. 2 pencils and mechanical pencils and pencil sharpeners and pencil cases and rubber erasers and fancy craft erasers and safety scissors and glue and paste and mucilage and rubber cement and watercolor paints and poster paints and tissues and hand sanitizer and rulers and protractors and notebooks and composition books and loose paper and three-ring folders and pocket folders and pocket three-ring folders into the appropriate bag, checking off the list as I went. It was kind of a hassle, but an enjoyable hassle; the sort of little nurturing ritual with a specific beginning and concrete ending that I came to love as a mother.

This year? After taking themselves to the store, Clara and Owen casually tossed a three-subject notebook and pack of pens each on the dining-room table and referred to that paltry haul as their “supplies.” Not a brightly-colored logo in sight.

Both last night and the night before, I’ve had strange dreams: about stumbling upon babies in random places in my house, stressful conflicts with strangers, and going on a girlfriend’s getaway with my two best friends in order to have pelvic surgery.

In one particularly odd dream I was in a concert venue, trying to catch up with my family -  but suddenly I fell down and couldn't get up again. I was also holding a full glass of milk, so I rolled on the floor, switching the glass carefully from hand to hand as I went so it wouldn't spill.

Analyze THAT one, friends.

Anyway, life is good. I'm in a great groove with these kids of mine, and quite loving the novelty of a home with "just" two kids in it - especially as we're beginning to create new traditions with my new husband. I miss the older ones, but know they're off making their way like they're supposed to, just as my two youngest are doing exactly what they should by getting older, always older, and creeping toward their own eventual exit.

After a quarter-century of motherhood and two decades of being a school mom, I’m still here, but the rules of engagement have changed. I’m learning how to show up in this new stage of family life: cheering on the sidelines, offering up nurturing and guidance when I can and a listening ear when advice isn’t wanted.

Still a mom, but a new sort of mom, making space for the work my kids need to do to grow and fly.

And I’m doing my own work, too: figuring out who I am, and who I will be, when I'm no longer the mom snapping first-day-of-school photos (or posing in them, a la the above shot from 2016 featuring Owen, Clara, and a younger, shorter-haired me).

If you’re in, or close to, this stage I know you feel how hard this is. We can’t go backward again to those days of toothless smiles and cartoon backpacks. And we can’t jump forward to what will be when they’re all out of the house and we’ve learned how to to make sense of my new life, either.

We just have to stay in this messy middle and see it through, to give ourselves space to get it wrong, to get it right, just to get in it…

…to be present in what’s happening today: not last year, not a year from today - but right now.

It hurts. It heals. It’s all we really have, anyway.

If you’re occupying that boundless middle space between mom-of-littles and empty nest, you’ll definitely want to check out my upcoming retreat, REINVENT, this October 20-22. With an in-person option in beautiful Southwest Michigan and a virtual option that will meet you wherever you are, this is the perfect place to connect with other midlife moms who are looking for support and advice in managing this transition. Early-bird pricing ends on August 31 - use code REINVENT at ReinventRetreat.com for 15% off!