We quickly escaped to the beach upon our return home-
Back home- a balmy 98. Without a cloud in the sky. No clouds. Ever. (In fact, when we flew to TN, our layover was in Dallas. We got off the plane and the sky was cloudy. It kind of hurt my eyes. We had to explain to the kids that those white, puffy things in the sky were clouds! We rarely see them Spring-Fall here!)
(and with my mom gone the past few weeks, I am happy to report that we still have tomatoes, one teeny tiny squash starting and all the pepper plants are looking promising and most important of all- alive! ) Like I tell Brian (the aspiring gardener), I keep the kids and dogs alive- the plants are just too much.
Another sign of summer in the backyard- besides the blue sky and red tomatoes? Bathing suits. And towels, just handing around on the patio sets to dry. No clothes line needed. The air is so dry here, they will be ready to wear in an hour, so back to the pool!
Sign of summer #17- me, in my pajamas at 11am.
And the #1 sign of summer? This kid-
His hair is too long. His clothes do not match. (And mama does not care) And I am pretty sure his shoes do not even fit anymore. WHO CARES, IT IS SUMMER!!!!
Tomorrow morning, unfortunately, I will have to send him off to 2nd grade. I am not ready and he does not want to go. Perhaps if we had until after Labor Day, we would be ready. Perhaps not. But tonight, I am just craving a little bit more summer. A little more free time for Tate. And me. More morning cartoons, later bedtimes. (I am a stickler for routine during the school year, sorry kids)
We resumed piano tonight. He was not thrilled. We went to the ice cream social at school and found out who his teacher is. None of his buddies are in his class. None. Of. Them. But, like a true Air Force kid, he will suck it up and by 10:15am tomorrow, I am sure he will have found a new buddy, or two, to pair up with for 2nd grade.
I am not ready to let go of this summer yet though. So at 5:30 we went to McDonald's for dinner and at 6pm we were swimming at the base pool for one more evening of night swimming! (When we got there, there was only 1 other kid at the pool. Clearly everyone else is a stickler for the rules, starting tonight! Nope, not me. Resisting as much as I can.) Tomorrow night I promise to get back to protein and veggies, homework and piano lessons. Tonight though, was fun.
This week I read a few articles about returning to school that I want to remember. The first is by my beloved Jen Hatmaker, and while I can not relate 100%, I do think she is just hilarious!
Worst End of Summer Mom Ever: A Sequel
by Jen Hatmaker on August 16th, 2013
651
Oh, don’t even say it. I already know. This Mama is singing a different tune and JUST WHATEVER ABOUT IT. Yes, the girl who bemoaned homework folders and daily school requirements and reading minutes and All The Things is now on her knees, begging the teachers to take these children back.
You understand this, right? We had the fun. We surely did. We did the swimming and the vacations and the sleeping in and the loosey-goosey living, and now ladies and gentlemen, I am very much over it. Back me up: summer is too freaking long. Twelve weeks of this is unreasonable. What does summer think we are? Machines? Excuse me, but I've never done anything well for twelve straight weeks in my life.
You understand this, right? We had the fun. We surely did. We did the swimming and the vacations and the sleeping in and the loosey-goosey living, and now ladies and gentlemen, I am very much over it. Back me up: summer is too freaking long. Twelve weeks of this is unreasonable. What does summer think we are? Machines? Excuse me, but I've never done anything well for twelve straight weeks in my life.
I can't help you process why my kids can't make normal faces for pictures.
0 for 5 in this gem.
0 for 5 in this gem.
Sixteen hours a day for infinity days without the helpful scaffolding of school or clubs or teams has pushed me to the point where I recently told my children: “I’m so sorry. I see your mouths moving but all I can hear is BLAH BLAH BLAH. Your needs are probably real, but I am unable to attend to them at this time. If you cannot make a sandwich or solve this particular problem, whatever it is that your moving mouths are trying to assault me with, then you will either starve or bludgeon one another or fight to the death and die, and I want you to know that I will miss you.”
Also? There is no stupider place than Texas in August. I.Cannot.Even. We can’t be outside (unless we hate ourselves) and our neighborhood pool feels like a bathtub. The children should be in school already, sitting in air conditioning and learning something, instead of wasting their lives on video games and TV because the outdoors have ceased being an option and their mother has lost the will to live. In the midst of this oppression, the air conditioning in my Suburban went out, so my innards slowly melt every time I drive and ooze out in attractive back and butt sweat. The only adjective to describe the effect on me is homicidal, especially when the youngins are saying things like, “Mom? Why does your arm fat swing like that when you turn?”
My Beginning of Summer Attack Plan has atrophied. We are no longer cooking delicious new recipes together. Caleb had Lays potato chips for breakfast yesterday. At the crack of 11:15. The wheels have come off, dear ones. I did my part: the fun camps, the trips, the pool, the lake, the snow cones, the Good Times, and now it is all dead to me. I’ve reached to the outer limits of my capabilities, and we are now in the black hole of what I call “the screw-its.”
This summer was packed with awesomeness, but we need structure back. We need routine. We need kids to go the freak to bed. Sure, we will soon put them down while the sun is still blazing, but that is what blackout blinds are for. It is time to restore our home to a nurturing environment for children instead of the frat house it currently resembles. Will I struggle to manage the early hours with five uncooperative sloths? Sure, but then they will all leave.
What will I do? I will think my thoughts, which I haven’t heard since June 5th. I miss my thoughts and I look forward to seeing what they’ve been doing. For all I know they could’ve been curing cancer, but they’ve been stamped out by missives like He won’t quit touching my game/remote control/Afro and Could you make me a sandwich/pizza/taco and I am bored/hot/hungry and When are we going to leave/eat/bathe again? My thoughts have done all they can do for these people, and they’ve put in their notice.
So Teachers, I sincerely hope you enjoyed your well-deserved summer. I hope you actually frolicked. I imagine it took exactly this long to recharge after teaching our children for a year, and I've told you how much I love you for that. Here is the good news: you’re about to have a bevy of fresh-faced, chipper, super-charged Mamas in a couple of weeks. We will cheerfully volunteer for Class Moms and parties and Friday Folders. We will sign those daily reading minutes LIKE A BOSS. Our children will be at school on time for tens of days.
Disclosure: This will be our best selves. You will temporarily enjoy the fruits of our highest levels. Exploit it, Teachers, because it will slowly erode. We aren’t as efficient as the vibe we’ll be putting out. But for awhile, when you’ve taken our kids’ brains back into your capable hands and it appears they have the capacity to learn again, our gratitude will manifest as proficiency.
Enjoy it while it lasts.
Next up, some chic named Holly Thomspon Brewer, from NC- do you know her? I stumbled upon this on Facebook, of course.
To my children's teachers:
I apologize in advance for the condition my children might be in when you see them on Thursday morning. You will have your work cut out for you, I can assure you.
They will likely be very tired. They have been going to bed late and sleeping in because, frankly, that is what I call a great summer.
Their brains are not in learning mode. If they read a book this summer, I am not aware of it. I sure didn't ask them to. I'm sure they read the back of the cereal box full of processed ingredients. That may be it.
Their handwriting will likely be chicken scratch for a few weeks, at least. Well, with Anderson.....the chances of improvement are slim to none. That ship has sailed. You will want him to type any written work so it will be legible. I'm pretty sure Bennett hasn't held a pencil since May.
There has been no practicing of math facts or algebra review. Anderson counted money and tickets at the arcade by the beach. Pretty sure that was the extent of math practice this summer.
They aren't looking forward to seeing you. In fact, my soon-to-be first grader cried tonight just thinking about having to sit in your classroom. Have fun with that.
My rising freshman told me he didn't need to see you a day early on back-to-school day because, and I quote, "I'll figure it out on the first day." Preparedness is not his strong suit, so consider yourself warned.
No, they aren't ready to see you. To be honest, I'm not ready for them to see you either. Please don't curse me under your breath when you receive them into your classrooms on Thursday morning. Know that while they may be underprepared, it is because they have been busy being children. Because in the blink of an eye, they will be grown men holding down careers and supporting families of their own. And lazy summers will be a thing of the past.
I do promise to make sure homework is done and they are in bed on time during the school year. I promise they will be well-behaved and obedient because they have been trained, and they know how consequences follow them home. Please remember, however, that they are boys and will need a daily outlet for the energy they so carefully try to constrain while you are teaching. Recess isn't negotiable for Bennett.
Take care of my boys. You have them for as many waking hours as I do each week, and that is no small thing.
As always, thank you for overworking for pennies so that my kids can learn. I promise to be generous with the gifts and service in your classrooms.
Sincerely,
A Summer-Loving Mom
Okay, Farrah here. Please wish me luck tomorrow! First obstacle will be the 6am alarm. 8am, I will miss the summer love affair we have had very, very much.
No comments:
Post a Comment