The champagne will be nicely chilled when the big day arrives. I am counting down the minutes. I thought this day would NEVER get here. But it is almost here. Only 6 more days. 6 MORE DAYS!?! I don’t know if I can hold out that long. I think I can. I think I can. I can. I will. The champagne reminds me that our time is near. In 6 days, Number One and Number Two will walk out the door and I will bid them adieu with ticker tape and a champagne toast to the back-end of their school buses. The first day of school is a magical day.
Yes! I do have other kids. I’m like that goddamned woman who lived in a shoe. I’ll take what I can get and you don’t have to be a statistician or a child care expert to understand that less kids=less stress. From Monday-Friday, 8AM-3PM, there won’t be any fights over what TV show to watch. I won’t be questioned every 39 seconds, “Is it MY turn to play Minecraft?” I will only have 2 kids here to tear shit up, so my house will be 50% less messy.
Of course, their teachers will provide my children with the necessary materials to piss on my parade in the form of a mountain of paperwork for me to fill out. I think this year I’m just going to send a note back with them.
To whom it may concern:
I filled out all this shit last year. And the year before that. And the year before that. We haven’t moved. We are still married. No names have changed. Those listed as emergency contacts in previous years haven’t changed, nor have their numbers or their relationship to our children. You have my permission to take all those files and forms that I filled out last year, or any year prior, and stick them into a folder with a tab displaying the current school year. You can scratch off or white out the dates on the old folder for all I care. I give you complete administrative and creative license on that decision.
Here’s to a great school year,
Queen of the Couch
P.S. Number Two is in 2nd grade, He is 7. Let’s not assign these projects that require anything more than crayons and safety scissors, mmmmkay? If you wanted to analyze and grade a solar system constructed from molding clay, model paint, wires, wood, and a suspension system, elementary school is probably not your niche. This may come as a surprise to you, but most of those projects were not done by your students, but by their parents. The ones that are really, really shitty and look like they were made by a 7-year-old with construction paper and Elmer’s glue, those were probably done by the student. I’m not saying it is out of the question that even those were done by the parents because that is what it would look like if I had to do it. Just sayin. Remember and repeat: I teach 7 year olds. I teach 7 year olds. I teach 7 year olds.
I know there are those parents out there that think I’m awful because I should be desperately trying to cram my children back into my vagina at a time like this. Look, I love my kids. A lot of times I even like them. School time is so important for our bonding. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, AMIRITE?!?!
This is going to be the LONGEST WEEK EVER. I’m going to need wine.