Despite every indication this would be the school year that never ended here we are, tumbling into the first weekend of May. Flowers are blooming, birds are swooping in front of cars, and my control-happy heart is embracing the only thing keeping me sane.
No, not a yummy sparkling moscato. I’m talking about my very own end of school, here comes summer, Jesus-take-the-wheel-and-my-teenagers-too list.
You’ve got one of these, right?
1. Find four bottles of sunscreen left over from last summer. Realize one has expired, two are more than half empty, and the last is a brand everyone refuses to use. Accept defeat and buy four new bottles of sunscreen. Put the others back in the closet because waste not, want not.
2. Start coordinating plans for end of year awards ceremonies, sports dinners, and parties. Note food obligations on calendar then promptly forget them until sixteen hours before said event. Cue running around like a hyperactive chicken facing my first potluck rodeo.
3. Ask kids if their swimsuits fit. Pray fervently that this is the year I won’t suffer through a three hour shopping excursion complete with dressing room contortions.
4. Whoops. Need to think about end of year teacher gifts. Preferably before the last week of school sneaks up on me.
5. Remember my definition of fit and Bear’s often vary. Require physical verification that her swimsuits are still rated PG.
6. Weep because I could dress this girl in head to toe scuba gear and it wouldn’t matter.
7. Start thinking of all the home projects we can get done with three capable humans home during the day. Cue riotous laughing.
8. Coordinate travel plans for summer calendar. Cross reference with kid, adult, and church obligations then resolve at least three conflicts. Alternate between thinking we’re too busy and that I dropped the ball on getting the kids interested in camp.
9. Consider tackling the monumental task of arranging dog sitters. Write down three travels dates, find two others that are optional, realize another is entirely up in the air. Try to figure out which options to send to our families for lake time. Put the whole thing aside to get some chips and salsa.
10. Wonder if it’s possible for weeds to multiply by force of will.
11. Contact the driving instructor to try to schedule T-man’s hours. Fail miserably. Make a note to try again in a month then immediately go into denial that we have a son almost ready to drive. What the what.
12. End up right where I always do: summer is coming, period, and not a damn thing I do will change the trajectory of three sunshiny months with everyone underfoot. Go into backup mode and find a new hiding place for that chocolate stash.