Typically my mornings are simple. I get up at seven, throw on my carpool sweats, wake the kids up, give them breakfast, bring them to school, and then I head straight back home. I make beds, tidy the kitchen, exercise, shower and then I work a little before lunch.
Not this time of year.
This is the time of year for parent coffees, end of year project presentations, potlucks and next year it will be final exams. This is the time of year when we all look at the signature project and try to guess whose child is an incredible artist, and who did the work for their eight year old.
This is the time of year that I’m waking up at six am, and returning home at four after having been with the kids all day long, and everyone is hungry, but we haven’t been to the market. This is the time of year that my son wants to stay up late, because it’s still light outside, but he maxes out, because he’s still a little boy and needs his rest.
This is the time of year that my husband stays late at the office, because in the absence of a setting sun, he doesn’t realize the work day has ended.
Some schools are doing ERB testing (mercifully our school does that in the Fall), so a number of my friends are doubly stressed. The kids are freaking out because some of their friends are changing schools. And really… all I want is a five day school week so I can clean the house, move my body and write a little.
I’m not asking for much.
I’m still car shopping. I have to get Mr. G’s car soon. I brought my car in for it’s pre turn in inspection and there are a few things to fix. I have to tell you, I absolutely detest every single part of that dealership, and I can’t wait to be done with them. Right now my car is in for it’s final service, and I literally wanted to kick my heels up and celebrate.
We’ll muddle through these last weeks of school, they’re emotional, and the parents are a little more involved than I think parents need to be.
My house is dirty, but on the up side I got to spend the day hanging out with Jane and Alexander. That’s a good day.
oh so you REALLY are like us! i had this preconception that all the women in LA didnt have any worries. boy do i feel like a dork.