Back to School Blues

I always hated September. When our house was full with five kids, it meant days of  preparation to gather back-to-school supplies. I would usually be scampering around at the last minute, looking for black-and-white marbled copybooks. Each store would have two or three, and we needed twenty-five.

Now, I know this was partly my fault for procrastinating, but the last thing I wanted to hear from each and every store clerk was, “Didn’t this happen last year, too?” The older woman at the drug store actually smirked.

“No! I have a twin sister!” I stormed out the door. It happened again at the outlet department store.

Seriously, where do these people get their memories? I could barely remember to pick up twenty-five copybooks, let alone recognize cashiers from last year. When I mentioned this to the store clerk, she laughed and said, “Oh, you’ve been frazzled every year for the past five years!” It seems I had a reputation. “I tell moms about you all the time. ‘If you think you’re stressed…you should have seen this wild woman last year!’” She smiled as if she’d given me a compliment.

 

 

 

 

In addition to the twenty-five copybooks, there was a three-page list of supplies for each child, each one different is some way. In addition to the lists, there were eighty-five forms to fill

out, in case one of them got a fever at school. In addition to that, there was a two-page memo regarding appropriate attire for class. They wore uniforms! How much more info did we need?

Apparently, the knee socks could be only one shade of blue, and laces had to be tied on the approved style of docksiders. There was a drawing showing the acceptable length of the skirt. It was exactly in the middle of the kneecap. The boys had to wear navy or khaki pleated pants with golf shirts, which were only sold by the uniform company. I could find these shirts in other stores for twelve ninety- nine, but we had to buy the twenty-six dollar brand from the uniform company. Don’t even ask!

All that was nothing compared to the problems with backpacks. We needed five different colors. The last thing I needed on a Monday morning was to get a call from the school, saying that Child #2 had ended up with Child #4’s backpack. They went to two different schools, and something like that meant pure aggravation for one unhappy mom who had to drive all over town to switch the bags. I actually got to the point where, if they called to say they had forgotten their lunch, I told them to beg for food from a friend. They stopped forgetting their lunches by the second week of school.

Then, there was the activity schedule! I would get up on a beautiful fall Saturday morning, with the plan to plant mums, meet a friend for lunch and have mani-pedis.  However, my plans were about to change. The kids had places to go and people to see.

 

 

 

8:00      Sip coffee, preparing for my glorious, relaxing day ahead.

8:10     Kids arrive with their plans for the day. Husband leaves for work.

8:20     Cancel nice morning, lunch and mani-pedi and cry in the bathroom

8:55     Take Child #3 to tennis practice

9:15     Take Child #2 to football practice

10:00   Take Child #4 to gymnastics

11:00   Pick up Child #3 from tennis and rush to football field to pick Child #2.

11:30   Drop Child #3 off at volleyball practice

11:45   Pick Child #4 up from gymnastics

12:00   Drive Child #5 to hockey practice

12:15   Drop Child #2 off to buy lizard food

12:30   Snooze in car while he shops for lizard food. Block out little crickets future

1:00    Go back to pick Child #3 up from volleyball

1:10    Bribe Child #4 with money not to barf in my car

1:30    Retrieve Child #1 at his friend’s house

2:00    Back to hockey to pick up Child #5

2:30    Grocery shop. Uh-Oh forgot the damn list!

3:15    Pick up Child #3’s friend and take her to our house

3:30   Stop for ice cream to control low blood sugar and bad mood

3:35   Child #3 calls to say she forgot her jacket at volleyball, drive back to retrieve it

 

 

 

3:45   Realize I forgot to get dinner while grocery shopping

4:00   Return to grocery store; stop to get wine

4:30   Pick up Child #1 at his friend’s house

5:00   Husband comes home and says, “You were lucky! You had the day off!”

5:05 Pass out on the couch!

I am a warrior mother. Do not think for one minute that I am a wimp. By mid-November, I mastered this schedule. It was easy, really. It’s amazing what you can accomplish knowing a chilled bottle of wine awaits at home.