Every September, I convince myself that this will be the year I’m organised.
The uniforms will be ordered early, the shoes will fit, everyone will know where their calculator is. The cupboards will be stocked, the washing finished and I’ll return to the office refreshed, focused and completely on top of things.
It's never happened.
Back-to-school season isn’t one task. It’s about 47 small tasks that need doing at exactly the same time, usually while you’re still surrounded by half-unpacked suitcases and wondering how every plant in the house managed to die while you were away.
There are uniforms to check, which involves persuading the kids to try on clothes when neither of you can remember what fitted at the end of last term. I inevitably miss the secondhand uniform sale, find out something essential is out of stock and end up pre-ordering a jumper that may or may not arrive before Christmas.
Then come the shoes. An in-store experience that feels less like shopping and more like crowd control. Are they the right size? Is there enough growing room? Will they actually be worn, or declared deeply embarrassing within a week?
Next, we begin the annual hunt for the missing stationery. Calculators disappear, pencil cases mysteriously empty themselves, school bags that looked perfectly fine in July are suddenly deemed unusable. Old exercise books and folders are still lurking around the house, although nobody is quite sure which can be recycled, which must be kept and which apparently contain “really important stuff”.
Meanwhile, I’m attempting to restore some order at home.
The holiday washing has turned into its own mountain range. Summer items need putting away, the Tupperware cupboard has descended into complete anarchy, there are twelve lids and somehow none of them fit the three remaining containers.
I’ll do a food shop, forget what we already have and double-order half the kitchen. We’ll then have six cans of tomatoes but nothing anyone can actually take to school or work for lunch.
And then the WhatsApp messages begin. School groups, year groups, sports groups, clubs, classes, sign-up forms, payment reminders, dates for the diary. Dates that have changed since the last message. One notification leads to another until I’ve opened 14 conversations and can’t remember what I was originally trying to find.
This year I even nearly missed the netball sign-up, which would have been particularly embarrassing because I’m the organiser!
There’s also the health and life admin I’ve conveniently ignored all summer. Haircuts need booking, dentist appointments need arranging. Everything that felt like it could wait in July suddenly becomes urgent in September.
At the same time, I’m trying to switch my founder brain back on and catch up on work.
While I’ve been thinking about school timetables, work hasn’t exactly been quiet. On one particularly chaotic day, ten event enquiries landed in my inbox. There are meetings to organise, opportunities to assess and an investor-and-founder event in Leeds that I’ve mentally flagged but haven’t yet worked out how to fit into the diary.
Running a business and raising a family often means moving between completely different worlds within minutes. One moment I’m thinking about Seep’s next stage of growth, the next I’m trying to work out who has taken the only working black pen in the house.
My own routines have fallen away too. Exercise has slipped, meals have become more improvised. I keep telling myself I’ll get back into a rhythm once everything else is sorted, but perhaps that’s the trap - nothing is ever completely sorted. There will always be another form, another meeting, another load of washing or another cupboard that could do with a clear-out.
September has a funny talent for making us feel as though everyone else has returned from summer beautifully organised while we’re the only ones scrabbling around for a PE kit. I’m fairly sure that isn’t true.
So this year, I’m trying to resist the urge to fix everything in one heroic burst. I’m tackling one pile, one email and one sign-up form at a time. The dead plants may have to wait a little longer.
If you’re also limping rather than gliding into the new term, you’re in very good company!