Composition notebook. School registration. New sneakers. Building tour. Doctor’s appointment. Hair appointment. Nail appointment.
Gym. Trainer. Football registration. Clothes shopping. Summer reading. Skateboard. “I’m going downtown. Can I get 20 bucks? 15? 10?”
First car purchase. Work. Gym. Insurance. Registration. Driver’s ed. More work. Gym again. “Can you pick me up?” “We need pet supplies.”
*****
They’ve all needed different things over the past few weeks, as we try to get back into our groove.
I need things, too. Time in my classroom. New bulletin board borders. Crock pot recipes. A new planbook. Groceries. Gas. Time to breathe.
*****
We’re doing it. We’ve all gone back for at least one day of school. The lunches got made and the forms got signed. Everybody had shoes that fit. Nobody missed the bus.
And this long weekend is a bit of a tease. We got through three days, and now we have three days off. It provides the illusion that this all might actually be manageable. That we might still be able to get our errands run and go for drinks with friends and have quality family time and get the laundry done on the weekends before it all starts again.
This weekend, we will. I did go for drinks after work on Friday. Yesterday, I did get some shopping done and spend some time with friends. The kids were going in all different directions; one to work, one to a friend’s house, one to shop downtown. And when we all got back home, there was chaos and teasing and those kids made me laugh until I cried.
I’m just STARTING to feel the pressure of being a working mom again. In September, I feel like I CAN do it all. I’ve had the whole summer to recharge. I had weeks to plan the first weeks of school. I got a bunch of projects and errands done, and while I certainly didn’t finish EVERYTHING, I’m not really feeling behind just yet.
There’s the novelty of a new group of students. The excitement of hitting the re-set button. The opportunity to correct last year’s mistakes with a new group of kids. There’s enthusiasm and optimism where exhaustion and apathy were, just a few short months ago.
But after 22 years of making this particular transition, I’m growing a little jaded. I’m wary and weary because I’ve travelled this road before, and I know it’s not going to last. I WILL fall behind. I will scramble to get my lessons planned on Sunday nights. I will forget to sign the field trip form. I will get up at 6am to make sure I get the grocery shopping done on Saturday morning before the rest of the family wakes up. I will leave the laundry in the washing machine for three days and have to restart the machine. I will forget to do the oil change and miss the dog grooming appointment because I forgot to add it to the google calendar. I will miss work because of a sick kid and I will miss my kid’s open house because I have to work.
*****
I’m sitting on my couch, admiring the plants that I haven’t killed, which is a small miracle in and of itself. Two kids are still asleep. A third is playing video games. Jack is in the kitchen, cooking eggs and sausage and potatoes. It smells so good. As I sip my coffee, I’m mentally reviewing my plans for the day, wondering what type of family fun I might squeeze in that the kids won’t resist.
Today, I’m just going to think about today. I’m going to be in this moment, without worrying about all the moments to come. Maybe there’s some sort of relief in finally realizing that it’s all inevitable. No amount of September planning will prevent the December overwhelm. No amount of August prep work will make March feel less dreary.
And no amount of June exhaustion will carry through until September. It’s a cycle. I’ve travelled it enough to know where the peaks and the valleys are. So while I’m here, at the top of the mountain in the sunshine, I’m going to take in the view, take a few deep breaths, and try to just ENJOY it.