momma mommy bwuh

As I mentioned in my last post, life has been utter chaos.

It’s been difficult to find any kind of balance between work and home, and eventually, everything started suffering.

Most importantly, I was suffering.

I couldn’t do the things I enjoy doing—blogging, reading, listening to podcasts. Every single minute of my day felt like it was spent juggling because my time was never really my own. I was dividing it between myself, my husband, my children, and my work.

And naturally, the ball I was consistently dropping was me.

Over the last month, one of the biggest challenges has been homeschooling.

The school year started off nicely, and then it quickly took a turn. Boy1 wasn’t passing reviews from last year. He was consistent with his phonics, but struggling with language arts and math. He was being defiant, protesting, and generally fussy about schoolwork.

The transition from summer break back to homeschool was not an easy one.

Then one day, I stopped looking at the situation like a frustrated homeschooling mom and started looking at it like a behavior analyst.

And suddenly, it made sense.

He was speeding through his assignments. He wasn’t paying attention to what he was doing. He was just click, click, clicking his way through each module because he wanted to finish and get to his free time.

Our school days were becoming ridiculously long because he would. not. stop. speeding through his lessons—even when speeding meant he had to go back and do them all over again.

He would click an answer before the question even finished being asked.

When I switched to worksheets, it was more of the same.

He wanted access to his preferred activities, and schoolwork was standing between him and what he wanted.

I finally understood what was happening.

And, if I’m being completely transparent, it was frustrating.

Some of the very freedoms I loved about homeschooling were creating problems for him. I had wanted flexibility. I had wanted him to have the freedom to work at his own pace and in an environment tailored to him.

But I realized something important:

He needed more structure, not less.

That realization led me to make the difficult decision to send him back to public school.

There were still so many things I wanted to do with him at home. There were still skills I wanted to work on, lessons I wanted to teach, and experiences I wanted us to have together.

But ultimately, I knew we had laid a good foundation over the last eleven months.

He learned a lot. I learned a lot.

And I felt like he was in a good place to return to school and get the structure that I think helps him thrive.

The reality is that I can’t consistently provide that environment while also being a working mom—not with the increased and sporadic demands of my job. I needed some flexibility back, too.

I met with the principal and the new special education teacher he would be working with. I expressed my concerns, talked through what I wanted for him, and walked away feeling really good about the transition.

Boy1 was on the fence about going back.

Now?

He is so happy to be there.

He received such warm welcomes from his teachers and old classmates on his first day back. He complains when I have to pick him up early for therapy. He’s excited to go to school.

And when he got off the bus that first afternoon, smiling and happy, I felt a huge weight lift off my shoulders.

It was the right decision for him.

And it was the right decision for me.

Sometimes I think we get so attached to the plans we make that changing them feels like failure. Homeschooling wasn’t a failure. Those eleven months mattered. They gave Boy1 individualized attention, helped us discover more about how he learns, and gave us time together that I will always value.

But something can be right for one season and not be right for the next.

And right now, this feels right.

I’m back to enjoying my quiet mornings—sipping coffee while writing blog posts.

I’m getting my work done during the day. No more 10 p.m. treatment plan submissions. I can schedule one thing without mentally balancing ten other things around it. I’m planning meals again. I’m actually cooking them.

My family is happy.

Boy1 is happy.

I’m happy.

Life is good.

And, of course, the return of football season doesn’t hurt either.

Hello, -ber months. I’ve missed you.

Have you ever had to change a plan you were really committed to, only to realize the change was exactly what you—or your family—needed?