Tag Archives: summer vacation

Back to School

12 Sep

back to school

Here’s why I hate the first day of school:

First: I am not known for being quick.  To move.  To judge, well, who’s to say?  (Actually, I am.)

I revel in all things slow (side note: future NPR show- “All Things Slow”?)  Friends have been known to doze as I search for the exact word whilst in conversation (for example, “whilst”) while others have consumed an entire meal before I have properly plated my green beans opposite my cranberry sauce (Spouse, Thanksgiving 2008).

It takes about a week once school ends for me to fully develop my summertime groove- from switching bed linen to a higher, more luxurious  thread count, to picking berries to add to my morning beet smoothie (side note: future morning music show about ska-influenced music titled “Beat Smoothie”?) and then imagine, if you can, how disruptive deconstructing that groove can be.  You see now how the first day of school is overwhelming, at best, and, at worst, a total Weepfest (September, 2011).

Secondly: the paperwork.  Every year it’s the same.  Science lab rules, gym class rules, homeroom rules.  Where are the Stevie Ray Vaughn Rules rules?  Doctor’s information, emergency contact (where you ferret out true friends and then saddle them with caring for your sick child because the school cannot reach you at any of the contact numbers you provided- oops, did I leave off a digit?) plus an improved code of conduct- NEW for 2013-2014!  The “I will not wear sleepwear to school rule!”  (PS: I didn’t even know that wearing pajamas had been an option.  Oh, the Lifetouch pictures we could have had- complete with airbrushed option and crooked hair.)

Third: lunch.  The Boy has watched enough Food Network to now believe that only fresh basil and hand-hewned croutons are acceptable in a salad.  Who hews?  Of course, a PB&J is fine if you’re rushed (hello, it’s me) as long as the bread is stone ground whole wheat, preferably cold-climate grown.

Fourth: the clutter.  The constant jumble of socks and shoes and backpacks and lunchboxes.  And books and binders and paper and such.  All in front of the kitchen door.  You know, the door that we must fly out of right now if we are to make it “on time.”

Finally, about the quest to arrive “on time.”  I put quotation marks around “on time” because while “time” is more of a “concept” to me, previous employers have adopted a more literal definition of “time” and the “wasting” thereof plus the need to “show up on” it.  But, hey, we’re all different and both schools and workplaces benefit when tolerance is practiced.  Besides, who am I to judge?  Oh, right.  I’m the unemployed one.

Let’s not even discuss the switch to Standard Time where, from November to March, I am 59 minutes late for everything.  Oh sure, I eventually make up a few minutes here and there- mostly at doctor’s appointments because physicians have even broader definitions of “time,” “schedule,” and “appointment” than I do, but it’s not the same.

Plus the reason I am at the doctor’s office is due to some nasty germ that The Boy brought home from school anyway.

Then, from my scratchy-sheeted sick-bed, I will begin counting down the days until summer vacation again.

259 from today.

School’s out. Pass the chocolate.

20 Jun

How can it be that the last day of school is tomorrow?

It seems like we were just singing “Auld Lang Syne.”  Remember New Year’s?  Passe already- the shoulder pads, leg warmers, Blondie, DALLAS.  Oh wait, that was 1982.  I hate when I lose decades.

Also no one, not even my parents, sings at midnight on January 1st because,

a:  they have been asleep since 9:00 and

b:  we are a tone-deaf people.  Birthday parties have been “family only” since my sister and I once tried to harmonize and, long story short, the dog ran away and Grandma shot hot coffee out of her nose.

So by as early as this Friday I may be expected to be at the town pool, in a bathing suit with a cooler full of snacks and nine weeks of “I’m bored” staring me in the face?  Whatever happened to summer school, truancy, letters sent home from the district and making up for “unauthorized absences?”  Do we even have a truancy officer anymore?  I really should attend more Board of Ed meetings- the school year needs to be made longer.  Effective immediately.

It can’t be June because I haven’t lost the New Year’s resolution weight yet.  I blame Nabisco.  The 100 calorie snack bags that I bought at the warehouse store on January 2nd were to help me realize when my “portion perceptions are misaligned.”  (I also purchased a diet/psychology book.)

Mini Oreos- ha!  They ought to call them Oxymoron Bites.  Now Mommy eats three bags instead of two cookies but she pays more per ounce (the irony is why she opens the third bag) and enjoys them less.  Way to go National Biscuit Company.

Is it wrong to hope for a rainy summer?

Or at least a rainy July?

By August I can get a spray tan, mani-pedi, haircut and enough Spanx and WonderFabric-infused swimwear to make it to September 5th.

Which may explain why my parents sang their heads off every September 4th throughout my childhood: from “Winchester Cathedral” to “Peggy Sue,” they harmonized, laughed and then sang some more.  And September 4th isn’t even anyone’s birthday.

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