This is it. The very last weekend before life gets crazy. The very last of no routine bed times, ice cream for dinner, lazy dog days of summer. Beginning next week my baby boy will be starting Pre-K, my husband will be getting his classroom ready and completely submerged in football stuff. And the following week, I’ll have a teenager in junior high. I blinked and our summer was over. While other parents are happy for this time of year, I dread it. Don’t get me wrong, I look forward to fall and all the holidays, but I hate the hectic schedule of our lives. I hate knowing that homework will take up hours of our evening and the tears that go along with it. I hate the struggles of a child who isn’t an A/B student and who doesn’t have her grades plastered all over social media with pride beaming in her eyes but rather shame because she feels she’s disappointed us again. It’s a vicious cycle. I love sitting in the stands on Friday nights but hate knowing that I’m going to turn down just about every invite we get to do anything because I’m going to be at a game.
I enjoy the taking it easy. The living for this moment and impromptu trip to wherever. Every year around this time, I try to figure out a way I can quit my job and just be the mom who’s always volunteering to be PTA president or who’s always showing up at the school for every single awards day ceremony, field trip, the Mom who brings platters upon platters of freshly baked goodness. I want to be the mom who has the house clean and dinner ready by the time my littles walk through the door. These are the dreams of a working mom. The mom who feels the guilt of looking her daughter in the eyes and telling her she can’t be there for something. The kicker is, I really love my job. I love my coworkers and I love my office so while I complain, I know I wouldn’t walk away……unless we won the lottery. So I’m soaking in every last bit of sunshine, swims, bugs, beach trips, and ice cream in hopes that they’ll get me through the busiest time of our year.