This morning I got up and looked at the school calendar, as I am wont to do two hours before the start of school, and I exhaled a sigh of relief that I didn’t have to come up with snack for twenty kids.
Last month I sent Wyatt to class with a bag full of uneaten take-out fortune cookies. Lazy and unprepared or exotic and educational, I’ll let you be the judge.
But, it was during this last minute snack review, that I realized the final day of school is… next Wednesday? May 22nd? In, like, five days?
What the epic fuck, dude!?
When I was in school, we went until the beginning of June (depending on how many snow days we had), with the last day being a field day, where I spent the entire afternoon pulling pleated shorts out of my crotch, hiding against the fence along the turnpike and trying not to get stung by bees or called on to do a relay.
So, this sudden, very imminent end is… jarring.
Part of me should be excited, because now I can sleep in and not feel bad about wrapping my kids’ peanut butter and jelly in napkins and scotch tape. Downside: I never have sandwich bags. Upside: My kids sleep in like jobless 40 year olds.
But, this feels early. I don’t know that I’m mentally ready for them to be laying around my house, surrounded by toys, electronics, bikes and trampolines, telling me how bored they are.
It’s parochial school, can’t I sell some thing on Craiglist and pay for two more weeks? Because that would be awesome.
So apparently, I need to go to the store because I need more sandwich bags. And Straw-Ber-Ritas. The official drink of moms who hate summer but love opening cans.