A couple of weeks ago Linda left this comment:
OK, isn't it time for the oh my, summer is over, I'm not ready for the new school year blog? I swear it is close!
I read it and chuckled. Yes, it’s what I do.
Except…not this year, I thought. I believe I’m seasoned enough to skip the Labor Day Panic. No, I think I’ve matured beyond that.
I would be fine, I swear I would, except I’m trying a new math program, and that has thrown me into complete chaos. What was I thinking? What was wrong with the OLD math? Sure, it was completely dry and boring and repetitive with its repetitive repetitiveness over and over again and then one more time, but at least I KNEW WHAT TO EXPECT. And it didn’t assault me with DVD instruction and new manipulatives…WHAT, WE’RE TOO GOOD FOR PLASTIC BEARS ALL OF A SUDDEN?
*pant, pant, pant*
I spent the afternoon sifting through school supplies, wild-eyed and irrational. As evening drew near, Clay reminded me it was time to go to my parents’ house for dinner (I love my parents. LOVE THEM). We sent the kids to get in the truck, and they filed out, squabbling. Clay was searching for something, and I hung back with him, not wanting to wait in the truck with irritable, bickering boys.
“I’ll just wait until you’re ready,” I said. “No reason to expose myself to too much of that.”
“Makes sense,” Clay replied.
“Are you saying I neglect them? I’m a withdrawn, abandoning parent?”
“What? No! Those boys have never been neglected a moment in their lives by you.”
“OH, RIGHT. So now I’m some sort of helicopter parent?”
Makes you wish you were here, doesn’t it? I’m sure Clay wishes you were here too.
Well, here we go, headlong into a new school year. I'm sure everything will be fine, eventually.
Wish us luck – wish us learning – and wish us joy.
And maybe a touch of sanity. You know, for Clay.