So, this week the kids went back to school and
thank the sweet baby Jesus they did I sure will miss them.
It was a long, hot, action-packed summer of beach-going, goggle-snapping, flip-flopping, sticky-grape-popsicle-eating, SPF 50 fun. And that was just the first two weeks. The rest of the summer was spent hanging upside down off the edge of the couch, watching Spongebob and hearing a lot of this:
CHILD 1: I’m booored…
ME: Go outside.
CHILD 1: But it’s hooot.
CHILD 2: I’m huungrry…
ME: Go look in the pantry.
CHILD: But there’s nothing in theeeere…
You get it.
I was so ready for it to be over. I love summer, we all do at first, don’t we? By August I am positively claustrophobic. Mid-summer, trudging through Tarjay in a sweaty, pit-stained funk, I suddenly felt a glimmer of hope when I spied an employee putting up the new backpacks. Was this some cruel mirage? I suppressed the urge to run over and sniff them. That would be weird. Also, some other moms were already doing it. Weirdos! Weeks later, I got another little twinge of excitement as we shopped for new school clothes and supplies. I would throw each item in the basket and yell, “SUPPLIES!” while my kids stared at me stone-faced. It never got old. I was positively giddy by the time the teacher assignments were posted online. It’s happening! It’s really happening!
This video pretty much sums it up nicely.
Staples Dude– I feel you.
My kids were also less than thrilled at my countdown on the calendar. “Gotta be prepared! Only 12 more days ’til school starts!” “TWELVE!” I would announce to no one in particular.
Then it was here- it was finally here. No more whining, no more “stop touching me!” No more wet bathing suits on the floor, no more 4-kid sleepovers (where NO one sleeps anyway). It was time for school. The Current Legal Spouse and I got up early and made smiley-faced pancakes with blueberry eyes and bacon mouths. Because we’re awesome like that! The kids seemed to be in a daze. Henry was grumbling but compliant. Very typical. Camille, not so much. (Also typical.) She had several mini-meltdowns about various things, including, but not limited to: Her “scratchy” shirt, her hair, the seam on her socks, her brand new shoes (which she picked out!?!), the strap on her backpack, her snack… Shall I go on? I’ll answer that for you– No.
After wrestling both kids into their clothes, I tried to document this momentous occasion for the beautifully organized scrapbook (which I have yet to start), but it’s very hard to snap pictures of happy, first day back-to-schoolers when one is scowling and the other is howling. I took pictures anyway! I’m making memories here, people– act happy, g*d@#*%!!
|They look so happy, right?|
We finally made it into the building and settled both kids in their classrooms. A few more pictures, a few more kisses, then I made a break for it– FREEDOM!
|Sing it with me! “It’s the most won-der-ful tiiime of the yeearrr..”|
I practically moonwalked home, into the quiet house and breathed a sigh of relief. Total silence, oh, how I’ve missed you! I finished off the smiley-faced pancakes (because who the hell leaves bacon on a plate??) and cleared the dishes, humming to myself. I checked Facebook, talked on the phone and answered emails, all without interruption! Miracle! I went to the bathroom by myself! No one barged in while my pants were down! Bliss! They were finally out of my unkempt hair. On my way upstairs to make the beds, I notice one of Camille’s many drawings taped to the stair railing. It is a riot of warm yellow sun and cerulean blue crayon waves. A little blonde stick figure stands on the beach next to a large sand castle. (At least I think that’s a sand castle… it could be a very large beige person. Wait a minute, is that me?!? I really gotta hit the gym.) On the bottom of the drawing she has scribbled the words “hello summer!” The drawing made me smile and I wanted to tell her so. I started to yell for her down the stairs, (because I’m always yelling down the stairs or up the stairs at someone) “I just love your drawing, bab–” then I realize I’m yelling at no one. They are both gone. “Out of my hair.” This is what I wished for, remember? I stand in the total silence until the A.C. kicks on, chilling my shoulders and snapping me out of my reverie. I carried the drawing up to the playroom and tape it to the wall. It’s quiet in here. Too quiet. I turn on the playroom television.
Spongebob is on. I leave it on and make the beds.