Reading · Moms of Bigs with Esther Joy Goetz

“The older our children get, the easier it becomes to evaluate where they are instead of enjoying who they are.” (Esther Joy Goetz)

It’s August.

And I don’t I have anyone heading back to school anymore (unless you count my teacher daughter, so there’s that). But in my house, no. Those days are behind me. But every year when the school buses start running again (the bus stop is right at the corner of our property), backpacks fill the store aisles, and social media becomes a parade of first-day-of-school pictures, I notice something swirling around inside me.

I don’t think it’s just nostalgia. In fact, this is not what this particular thing is.

I think it’s because August has always been evaluation season.

When my kids were little, it felt simple enough. Were they ready for kindergarten?

Could they draw a picture of a person with arms and legs even though they came right out of the side of their big head? Did they know their letters?

Every year came with a clear next step and a fairly predictable path. Even as they got older, there was still a familiar cadence to it all. Third grade became fourth. Middle school, complete with cute graduation robes and awkward speeches, became high school. There were emails about class lists and who got what teacher, sports to sign up or try out for, backpacks and endless school supplies to buy, and calendars to fill.

There was real comfort for me in knowing what came next.

Then, somewhere during high school, something shifted without letting me know first.

The questions became less about predictable milestones and more about choices.

Should they take AP classes? Should they get a job? Quit a sport? Join another club? Go to what’s called “VO-TECH” here in New Jersey? Apply to college? Which college? Should they stay close to home? Go into the military (so scary, but somehow noble at the same time)?

Without realizing it, August stopped asking, What grade are they in? and started asking, Are my kids where they’re supposed to be?

And that’s a much harder question to answer.

I remember the August before my son’s senior year of high school.

Out of nowhere, he announced that after graduation he wanted to take a gap year.

A gap year?

I honestly didn’t know what to do with that.

It wasn’t the plan I had imagined. It definitely wasn’t the path any of his basketball buddies and gaming friends were taking. His older brother and sister had done what everyone else did and went straight to college. My mind immediately started racing ahead.

Would colleges look differently at him? Would he lose momentum? Was he making a mistake? Was I?

Now that I have the hindsight of 20/20, I realize something else was happening.

I had unknowingly begun measuring him against a timeline that wasn’t actually his.

The world had a schedule. His classmates had a schedule.

Somewhere along the way, I had started believing the lie that there was a “right” sequence to growing up, and anything outside of it felt risky or maybe even “wrong.”

But something unexpected and happily surprising happened that year.

Because we weren’t consumed with college applications, acceptance letters, and the pressure of figuring out exactly what came next, I found myself enjoying his senior year in a way I hadn’t with my older two.

I paid more attention.
I laughed more.
I worried less (at least, about the following year).

Instead of constantly living six months or even a whole year ahead, I found myself noticing all the little lasts that I would have otherwise rushed right past.

The last first day of school picture on our front porch with his little sister (Batman backpack in hand).
Senior prank day.
The pile of his friends shoes by our door and their laughter floating up through the basement ceiling right into my kitchen.
His final basketball season and the banquet where he was awarded Defensive Player of the Year.
Senior prom with some random girl because he and his long-time girlfriend were on the “broken up” part of their cycle, but it was so much fun to see him get ready with his Batman t-shirt on under his tuxedo.

(Batman was a lifelong theme with this kid.)

It became one of my favorite years.

I’ve wondered since then how many moments we miss because we’re so busy evaluating where our children are that we forget to enjoy who they are.

The truth is, the evaluation never really goes away.

It simply changes.

One day we’re comparing reading levels.

Years later we’re comparing colleges.
Then careers.
Relationships.
Apartments.
Engagements.
Grandchildren.

Every August seems to whisper the same question in a different voice:

Are they where they should be by now?

Maybe that’s why this season feels surprisingly emotional and sort of unsettling for so many of us moms, even if those lunch boxes are now getting moldy in the attic.

But what if August is asking the wrong question and hinting at that lie I believed?

Or maybe... what if we’re answering the wrong question?

What if our children were never meant to be measured against someone else’s timeline (also who makes up that timeline)?

What if becoming fully themselves has always mattered more than becoming who everyone expected them to be (including me, if I’m honest)?

And what if our greatest work as moms isn’t making sure they’re keeping pace with or maybe even running faster than the world, but giving them space to find their OWN way?

This August, if you find yourself looking around and wondering whether your child is measuring up to some “standard,” I hope you’ll pause.

Notice the comparison. Notice the pressure. Notice the lie you might be believing.

And then gently return your attention to the person (that big kid) right in front of you.

Not the timeline. The person. The still-figuring-it-out big kid.

Because the older our children get, the less life can be measured by report cards and résumés.

And maybe that’s exactly as it should be.

From my mama heart to yours,
Esther

P.S. Scroll down to the bottom so you can laugh (or even just smile).

💬 Mom-to-Mom Reflection:

What's one way your child's path has looked different than you imagined? I’d love to hear all about it. Or anything else you want to share, because I love comments!!

The Lie August Tells Moms About Our Big Kids

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