Struggling with back-to-school
A few weeks ago, I began to feel the familiar dread of Back To
School. I have read about most parents’ joy when it’s time for the
kids to hit the books again.
Struggling with back-to-school
A few weeks ago, I began to feel the familiar dread of Back To School. I have read about most parents’ joy when it’s time for the kids to hit the books again. For me, all I see is yet another endless tide of forms, pleas for Kleenex, soap and volunteer time.
Multiply that times two, and our paper shredder gets a serious workout from all of the duplicate forms.
The kids like the first few days of school when it’s fun for them to get to see their friends again and attempt to be on their best behavior for their new teachers who will get to know the “real” them in the next few days.
I hate when they empty their backpacks at the end of the day, leaving a trail of field trip forms for the umpteenth trip to the Aquarium and the park, order forms for $150 school uniforms that are needed by “Friday or I can’t play” and the picture day announcement that we will invariably forget about until The Boy wakes up with a serious case of bed-head and throws on his favorite pair of summer “floods”, to be captured for posterity.
There is one good thing about school; School Year Bedtime. When The Kids were little, I could say that bedtime is when it’s dark. That’s awesome during Fall and Winter when the sun sets at 4:45 p.m. Not so great during the last part of the year, when dusk is at 9:30. Now, I am forced to come up with reasonable bedtimes since The Kids are older. And besides, kids have that annoying habit of talking among themselves, and I am sure that one of their little friends would be only too happy to rat me out and say that 4:45 is not a “normal” time for bed.
School Year Mornings are always crazy. The Girl takes a half an hour more than I do to get ready, even though she wakes up 20 minutes before me, and I have a lot more square footage to take care of in the shower. The Boy dawdles over breakfast, puts his shirt on backwards and forgets to tie his shoes while my throat gets hoarse from shrieking at him to hurry up.
By the time, all is said and done, I am practically kicking them both out of the house, in my own mad dash to the car to try to get to work on time. Get up earlier, you say? Well, I would, but then I would just be waiting even longer for them both to get ready and my voice would actually be gone.
Hey, I just realized they may be dawdling on purpose. These kids are smarter than I thought.
Once we get back into the swing of things with school, it comes to an end and then I am fielding, “I’m bored. Can we go to the mall?” and “She keeps telling me what to do,” laments.
Which is worse? Hmmm.
Okay, kids. Hit the books.
