For those of you that love summer, that are energized by having your children around 24/7, that thrive on your refrigerator being cleaned out twenty minutes after you return from the grocery and live for sleepovers with a dozen of your child’s closest friends then this blog is not for you. If you bask in the continuous chant of, “But it’s summer! No one has a curfew!” “There’s nothing to do!” and my personal favorite, “What’s for breakfast?” when it’s 2:00 in the afternoon, then go ahead and move on. Read something else, because this is the first week of school and I am going to vent.
I could start this paragraph with a disclaimer, that I love my children and think their friends are great. I do. They are. But this mother is exhausted. If they don’t know they are loved, due to the last ninety days driving endless carpools, preparing meals for hungry kids, staying up too late for countless curfews, then I give up. My attention span is as short as theirs right now. Part of the fun of parenting is creating summer memories, but whoever said they needed ninety days of them was high on something. Now that I am officially in recovery mode, let me say that August is really the longest, cruelest month of the year for me. On one hand, you have television commercials teasing you with back-to-school deals. On the other, you have children sensing the impending doom of homework and early wake-up calls and now insist on squeezing every last minute of fun they can out of the final weeks of summer.
I will be the first to acknowledge that this time of year does not show my best side. I will also admit that I am the parent that does back flips in the school parking lot on the first day of drop off. I have also been known to give my children a polite shove when taking them to school each morning, while barely stopping the car. Friends and I have celebrated with Bloody Mary’s on those first days of school and I greet the teachers with high fives and not tears. In fact, I could never understand parents that cried when dropping off their children to school. That emotion just never occurred to me.
Regardless, and in case you have the wrong impression, I do love summer. I do love having my children home. But I’m tired. I’m worn out. I thrive on routine and the routine I like is when the school bell rings and kids are eating from a school lunch tray.