I really detest the end of August. Which is really sad, because at one point, it was the happiest time of my life. Everything I had worked towards was being realized on August 29th, 2003. Married. Forever. To Tyler. But now that we're ten years into it and have 3 awesome kids, the end of summer means the start of school. And I've never liked it.
Oh trust me. My kids drive me bonkers sometimes. And having them out of the house is often glorious. I walk to the school every morning in one mood, and come home in a much different, lighter mood. And it gives me more time to focus on a structured life for Logan, which he desperately needs. And my house gets cleaned and stays clean for more than 10 minutes...but there's this over-prevailing stress in it all. There's this feeling of being held down...under someone's thumb. It's the feeling of not being the master of my own schedule. And if anyone knows me, they know that I am BIG on schedules.
Knowing that about me, you'd think that the familiarity and structure of a school day would play well into that. But it doesn't. It means that my kids have to be up at a certain time, so they have time to get ready (which requires me to nag them approximately 1 million times to get dressed, brush their teeth and go to the bathroom. One. Million. Times.) They have to do these things so they have time to eat breakfast. They have to do this so they can have energy and be healthy and so their little brains work the way their little brains are supposed to. They have to eat breakfast so we can get out the door by a certain time, so we have enough time to bike or walk to school and not be late. And this requires me reminding them Five Hundred Thousand times to get their lunches, their shoes, coats, backpacks, helmets, bikes, bike locks, etc, etc, etc, and so forth, so we can get out the door. And then I have to remind them two-hundred and fifty thousand times between our house and the school to 'hurry up'.
This is a lot of nagging before 9:15am. And then the day is glorious and beautiful and almost completely my own, except for this chunky 3 year old who wants to eat peanut butter and play xbox or cars ALL DAY LONG. Having the older 2 in school also means that I have sole responsibility of entertaining the chunky 3-year-old.
But, at 3:15pm, I have to nag at the chunky 3-year-old to go to the bathroom and get his shoes on so we can make the trip back to the school. And for a brief few moments, we talk about their day and maybe play at the park...but the thumb comes back quickly and pushes me back into my place as drill-sargeant. Dinner has to be made, so bathing can happen and bedtimes can happen because if they're going to get the 12 hours of sleep that they so desperately need, and that I so desperately need them to get, they have to be in bed and asleep by 7:45pm. And out comes the nagging and reminding ONE MILLION TIMES to get dressed, brush their teeth and go to the bathroom, just so they can get to bed and to sleep in time for another day.
And once they're asleep...I have to make lunches. Blerg.
So, although I'm all for schedules and timeliness...I much prefer the ease of my OWN schedule. The schedule that allows for some wiggle room. If they're not in bed until 8:15pm, it's no big deal, because they can sleep in till 8:15 tomorrow without any consequences...except there are consequences. And on the night before the first day of school I felt the familiar squeezing sensation in my chest as my schedule flew out the window and I submitted myself to 4 months of living in "The Man's" schedule. And "The Man" is the school, in this case. Sometimes, I'd like to just stick it to "the man". But that's a different level of crazy that I'm unwilling to venture into. Homeschool. My kids would be dumb and I'd be ok with that...so I send them to school so they're not dumb. They're not dumb, and I have to remind myself to take deep breaths every once in a while.
So here's to the first day of school.
They sure are cute.
