#20 Back-to-School Gives Me Joystalgia

And I think it is the ultimate way to enjoy being a parent.

Hi friend,

It’s nearing the end of August and for us, we are less than a week away from my school-age kiddos returning to school. And I am nothing short of giddy.

Sure, I’m excited to go back to normal routines and not be responsible for filling their days, but my joy about this season is not rooted in my desire to separate myself from my kids. It’s rooted in my nostalgia for my own childhood and the nervous, butterflies-in-my-stomach excitement that came with going back to school in the fall.

Growing up in Vancouver, B.C. Canada, starting the school year smelled like wet maple leaves. In early September, it wouldn’t be unusual to walk outside in the morning and see our breath in the cool dampness. I remember those first school days, and all the care I put into picking out my outfit, ensuring that everything, including my hair accessories and my backpack, were visually cohesive. I remember how I felt, walking into the school building for the first time after summer break. The smells of freshly sharpened pencils, newly waxed linoleum floors, and those folded paper towels tucked into their humble metal dispensers by the sinks. The sounds of excitement and nerves that just blur together into a gentle whir, accented by the squeaks of new sneakers skidding on the hallway floor.

The nostalgia I feel around this time of year is truly at a cellular level. And now that I have four young kids returning to school, I feel it somewhat differently. It’s joystalgia. The feeling of acute longing for the past, packaged up in a giddy layer of joy in the current moment.

Joystalgia is, in many ways, the greatest perk of being a parent. Experiencing these wonderful rituals and transitions of childhood through your own children is perhaps what I cherish the most about motherhood. Joystalgia, like gratitude, can hit serendipitously at certain moments, but it can also be a conscious practice that helps us appreciate the beauty of building and nurturing a new generation.

And I think joystalgia is how I enjoy motherhood. 

Here are a couple of my peak moments of joystalgia from this past week:

Back-to-school shopping joystalgia

I took my four kids on a back-to-school shopping trip. In D.C., this season is still hot and muggy and back-to-school shopping is more theoretical than anything else (we will still be in summer clothes next week). But gosh darn it, I was determined to have a day of shopping for fall clothes, 90 degree weather be damned. 

Growing up, I honestly don’t think we ever bought much clothing during this season because my mom was a bargain hunter and she would have already bought my fall clothes the previous year during the end-of-season sale. But when it was time to head back to school, she always made a day of going shopping, with that giddy, anything-is-possible mindset of walking through the store, trying on things we liked (and making a mental note of what we would look for at the Boxing Day Sale at the end of the year). I have a nostalgia for that feeling of anticipation — from the drive, to the parking lot, and into the store. Even if we came out with not much more than some necessities like socks (for us), as well as some free skincare samples from the cosmetics department (for her).

Four hoodies walk into Uniqlo…

Corralling four kiddos through a store is always an interesting challenge. But along the way, we had some really fun and giddy moments of joy. Like my little one hugging and caressing a male mannequin’s leg as if it were Daddy. And getting matching hoodies for all four kiddos.

Public library joystalgia

We live walking distance to our neighborhood public library, and it is the source of a lot of joystalgia for me. I was only 6 years old when we immigrated to Canada, and my brother and I didn’t speak English when we started school. My mom was determined to help us gain fluency as quickly as possible. And when she learned that there was an expansive public (read: free) library in our little suburb, she made it her mission to have us spend as much time there as possible. She couldn’t read English books to us, but she could surround us with English words in hopes of us adopting the language through osmosis. 

During the summer, she would drop us off at the public library at opening time, come back with a picnic lunch around noon that we enjoyed on the grass outside, and pick us up at the end of the day. I spent a lot of time inside that public library, without the actual facility to read any of the books. But by the end of that first summer, I knew how to spot a Garfield comic book on the shelves and I had “read” each and every one of them ten times over. I was convinced that “bridge” was some spy language, judging by the look of the books on this card game that happened to be in closest proximity to the comfiest seats in the building. 

I remember the feeling of walking inside the front sliding doors into a draft of cool air conditioning. I remember the turnstiles at the entrance and how the metal felt cold against my chest. I remember the painted cinder block walls I sometimes stared at for hours, lost in thought. 

Public libraries are an incredible source of good in this world. Please support your local public library.

So every time I walk into a public library with my kids, I’m awash with nostalgia. Nostalgia for those early days as immigrants, my mother’s quirky philosophies on parenting, and my experience of finding my own way in a new land and culture that was so generous to us. Simultaneously, I feel joy and gratitude every time I see a room filled with books that I can now read and experience with my own kids. Public libraries hold a really special place in my heart, and that place is filled to the brim with pure joystalgia.

These days, it’s easy to forget there’s any beauty to raising kids. And it is in this season of transition that has reminded me, in this feeling of nostalgia and joy — joystalgia — how beautiful it can be.