FOR at least the past fortnight, I’ve had a mantra on repeat like a scratched CD, filling my thoughts with “when the kids go back, I’ll...” and an ever-changing end to each sentence.

On a slightly grandiose scale, I’ll start writing that best-seller that must surely be within my grasp if only I could get the old laptop fired up without its usual splutter.

On a more mundane level, I’ll tackle the ironing pile that’s taken up residence upstairs, clear the attic of outgrown children’s clothes and toys, stop indulging in all the niceties of riverside picnics, and maybe even plan in some concerted attempt at exercise.

That September deadline has now arrived and life feels like it’s at a turning point. The other three members of my family, husband included, have just gone back to school, their new shoes gleaming by the back door the night before, bags at the ready, tousled, wild hair trimmed and tamed.

While many parents were planning the contents of pack-up lunch bags in the big build-up, my husband had been burning the midnight oil beforehand, re-writing lesson plans for the new academic year - a necessity, due to a new curriculum being introduced.

With the new term, our leisurely summer evenings have now taken on a more studious atmosphere which makes me feel too guilty to watch the telly while my other half is immersed in text books - the downside of open-plan living no one thinks to mention.

This is all the more reason why I hate to bid farewell to our lovely, lazy summer - such a sharp contrast to the busy term-time routine, when extra-curricular activities are packed into any gaps around lessons, after-school clubs and bedtime.

We haven’t been anywhere more exotic than Wales this summer, but my children have loved splashing about in rivers and lakes, playing beach cricket, and enjoying other grand days out.

But the huge ‘Back to School’ signs in stationary shop windows and #backtoschool feeds across social media have heralded the start of the next treadmill ride.

I admit I was among the proud parents who snapped away with my camera phone as my sons obligingly posed on the front doorstep on their way to school, as they have over the past five years, the smartest they’ll look for the next academic calendar.

The annual photos in the album clearly highlight the passage of time and the changes that would otherwise take place under the radar. At four, my rosy-cheeked eldest barely reached the letter box on the front door. Now nine, he towers above it, tall and lean.

Facebook is a crowded place this week with photos of what people describe as the “obligatory” back to school snaps; a subject which has sparked debate about whether parents are right to post them at all.

For some, these images come on the back of reels of other pictures, needlessly charting almost every day of their child’s existence so far. For others, they mark an emotional milestone they feel is too big to publicly ignore - such as their first born’s graduation from nursery to ‘big school’. Those early days, of venturing into the unknown, seemed so daunting. Will they cling to your leg or run off and find a playmate? Will you cry more than them? Will the new silence at home deafen you as you forlornly nurse a cup of tea?

Not for the first time I’ve thought how useful it would be to have a cafe right outside the school gate. Many a day there are clusters of women, and the occasional man, consoling each other, or catching up like long-lost friends on the school corner for long enough to have provided a brisk trade to any entrepreneurial barista.

But it’s not just those early steps that are landmark moments for some families. A close friend waved her daughter off to high school for her first day this week. For her, the annual ‘back to school’ photo is an important marker of time she once feared they would never share.

Her daughter was born with left CDH (Congenital Diaphragmatic Hernia) and given less than 10 per cent chance of surviving her first day. She spent the next five months in hospital, and three and a half years on home oxygen. It hasn’t been easy, I’m sure, though I doubt I’ll ever fully appreciate the difficulties faced and can only admire my friend’s strength and calm.

So I, for one, was delighted to see the Facebook photos of her proudly sporting her new school uniform, her face bright with a confident beam and intelligent bright eyes, ready to make her mark.