The last two weeks of school are the same for most parents. We are ALL DONE. Spent from a year of making lunches, getting kids dressed, putting them on the bus, getting them off the bus, homework, book reports, science projects, band concerts and class plays. We are over the novelty of our children’s first day of (fill in the blank) grade. Their first day at a new school or their first school dance.
During the last two weeks, everyone goes into survival mode. You can tell who the parents are by the dead, blank stare they possess – the walking dead. Plodding through the last few weeks in an utter daze. If you muster up the energy to say “hi”, you’ll likely hear them whisper back -“I don’t give a sh#&%t.” Don’t take offense. It’s just the end of the year battle cry all us parents mutter.
We are like long distance runners, after months of training, the race is coming to an end. We can see the finish line and it looks beautiful! No more routines, no more packed lunches, no more tears over homework or school reports. Off in the distance is the dream of long, summer nights by the campfire, mom with a chilled glass of wine in hand, kids off playing flashlight tag, days at the beach, sand in the car, and kids exhausted and happy at the end of the day.
Personally, I think I checked out around Memorial day. At that point, I was all done with school and everything associated with it. My lunches, once packed with mostly healthy foods had dwindled down to a handful of doritos, two oreos and a leftover donut. The same goes for our hygiene routine. Gone where the days of brushed hair and brushed teeth. We were lucky to get out of the house with clothes on. I got to a point where I didn’t even remember the last time I bathed my kids. I think it was weekly, but I could be wrong.
The first weekend in June, my son came down with what we thought was appendicitis. Turned out to be an inflamed colon due to a virus, but it got us a night in the hospital, He was home three days, with all his original parts, then on his last day of preschool, he came home early with a fever, which turned into the stomach bug. My daughter then got the bug that night, but she recovered quick. The boy did not and was back in the hospital the following weekend for dehydration. If we had gone in one more time, we would have won a free bed pan.
In between hospital stays, my daughter had not one, but two class posters due. The first one, about states, was due two days after we got home from our first hospital stay. We squeaked that out and got it in a day early. The second poster, about grey squirrels, was due the following week and by then I was seriously thinking the teacher had a death wish. I mutter the end of the year battle cry under my breath and decided to just do the flipping project myself. My daughter was involved since she did most of the research before hand and did all the pasting, but rather than let her painstakingly type up three paragraphs with one finger, I typed the report and printed of the pictures. I’m happy to say we got an A+ on that sucka!
Oh and did I mention the day we got home from the hospital trip #2, my daughter got the stomach bug AGAIN. Yeah, that was fun.
The last week of school, Death Wish Teacher decided to assign homework – make homemade play dough for a volcano project the kids were doing. Now you’re thinking, that doesn’t sound so bad – a little flour, a little salt, it will be fun. It’s stuff you have in the house so how hard could it be. Easy Peasy. Ah no – because she wanted us to make 7 POUNDS of play dough. No lie! 6 CUPS OF FLOUR. 2 CUPS OF SALT. And a bunch of other things in quantities only bargain price clubs carry. The thing weigh slightly more than a small elephant. In fact, I drove my daughter to school the next day because I feared she would dislocate her shoulder if she carried it in her backpack.
So here we are. The night before the last day of school. It is a half day so no need to worry about packing a lunch. I did bathe my children. Well, actually I let them soak in the tub while I wrote this, but that counts, right? I can see the finish line within my reach. In less than 24 hours, victory will be mine. And as I slowly limp across the finish line, battered and bruised using every last ounce of energy in my bones – I will raise my hands in triumph and yell for the world to hear – “I DON’T GIVE A S@%#$T! Yee haw!
See you on the other side