Within 24 hours of the last bell, it looks like a school supply store exploded in my dining room.

The kids bring it home and, if left to their own devices, it would just…sit there.

For someone else to deal with.

I could put it in their rooms. I could put it on the stairs. Doesn’t matter. It would sit there all summer, staring longingly at them every time they walked by.

Eventually, the housecleaner would have to clean around it.

So I’ve learned that if anything is going to happen with the end-of-school-year pile, I need to take matters into my own hands.

It gives me anxiety. I’m the Type A mom who has to deal with it IMMEDIATELY.

I start with the artwork because that was the first thing to come home. I was surprised that there was less than I expected—and honestly, most of it I wanted to keep. The coolest item was a sketchbook they use at the beginning of each class with a daily prompt. Flipping through it made me think there’s a budding artist in all of us.

Next comes the schoolwork.

Yes, I kept every. single. handout. Notes. Quizzes. Tests.

Don’t judge.

New school. For all I knew, they’d have cumulative finals and desperately need a worksheet from October. Had I thrown anything away during the year, I guarantee that’s exactly what they would have needed. Since I kept everything, all it really did was weigh down my filing cabinet.

Then it’s time for what’s left.

Yes, I’m also the mom who pulls up next year’s supply list the minute it’s available and starts checking off what we already have. If a folder has a few holes or a torn corner, that’s what tape is for. Admittedly, my son begged me to spend $2.35 per folder last year because he insisted they would hold up better.

He wasn’t wrong.

As soon as I know what we’re missing, I’m searching Target and Amazon, filling the gaps, loading everything into their backpacks, and stashing the backpacks in the closet until August.

On the surface, it probably looks like I’m just organizing supplies.

But I think it’s really my way of handling transitions.

While my kids are celebrating the end of one school year, I’m already preparing for the beginning of the next. A little less uncertainty. A little less scrambling. A little more ready.

It may give me anxiety now.

But come August, when the school emails start rolling in and everyone is wondering where summer went, I’ll be grateful for the version of me who couldn’t wait to get started.

That’s the thing about being Type A.

Sometimes all that planning isn’t about folders and notebooks.

It’s about creating a softer landing for whatever comes next.