Wednesday, May 13, 2015

Draaaaaagging to the Finish Line


One week left.

One week from the moment I am typing this, I will go pick up the girls and bring them home with me for almost three months. 

If your last month has been anything like mine, you are draaaaaagging, too. The emails. The texts. The checking of the folders. The reading logs. The uneaten lunches packed in the lunchboxes that are now so gross they could be used as a science experiment. 

It's almost over. 

The last few weeks have been nothing short of chaos. I have started to put every single detail into the Cozi app Preston and I have on our phones. You must get the app. I mean it. It is awesome.

But now it is filled with diatribes like "Lillian needs to wear her tshirt and shorts and bring a change of clothes and have a completely disposable lunch on days x, y, z, and some that will just suddenly occur without warning, and we need to fill out all the field trip forms if we set one pinkie toe off campus, so get a fresh pen because there are so many you will use up all the ink."

And "Hope needs to wear her uniform on a field trip day even though we have field trip tshirts, and although you will remember most other parents won't, and Hope will be one of just a few kids on the field trip dressed correctly, but will be embarrassed because she isn't dressed like the others, and can you come in and watch a, b, c and d and make some food to feed 20 people for a service project and drive on lots and lots of educational field trips?"

And "Eva needs boxes and boxes, and she will talk about taking them until you drag some out and load up the van, and then she will cry over the Rocket Math sheet in the folder because she really wants to pass the last three so she can get a Gigi's Cupcake, and if you could jam that promise back in your mouth you would because it has brought so much drama that it now seems like the worst idea ever."

And all three people need a bag of candy for the end of the year pinata, eight million goldfish and 76 billion pretzels for field day (and can you host PreK's separate field day? The people who were going to are now moving, you know who you are!) and each class needs an all day helper on field day, which ain't going to be me because, as I explain, it wouldn't be fair for me to help one girl's class and not the other, so I just weaseled my way right out of that. 

Oh, and Preston is going to be gone overnight, which is so awful and makes me do ridiculous things like sleep with a golf club and a pocket knife just in case someone picks the one night a year he is gone to rob us, and during this night he is gone the giant dog will drag a deer carcass, a stinky deer carcass, into the front yard and there will be a piano recital, Mother's Day, Mom's birthday, Nephew's birthday, other Nephew's graduation, cheese and African jewelry party (and wine, so I will of course be attending), a school talent show (luckily my kids opted not to participate), playdates, friend's birthday parties, a play we are attending, and a night introducing the church's summer Bible study. 

But it's only one more week. 

My friend sent this picture to me, not as much for the question part as the hilarious answer, which is exactly how I feel this morning (Sorry for the language, not my picture and I have never ever said that word. Ever. Never.)




And I know you are feeling it, too. One of my nearest and dearest stayed up really late the other night to iron patches onto the vest of her daughter who was having a moving up ceremony for the American Heritage Girls. When they arrived to the ceremony they realized she had inverted the Troop's number so whereas she had ironed on 1300, the actual number was 0013. And the child had on the wrong color skirt.  

One mom got a phone call within an hour of dropoff today that her boy was throwing up. The temptation to tell the school it was their problem from 8-3 was great, but she went and got him.

Multiple moms forgot the pinata candy until it was already stuffed.

Twice I encountered moms who were having to make a return trip to school with the correct clothes. 

One of my children forgot her lunchbox, and I may have reacted as if the world was ending at that moment. 

But....

The Teachers who have loved my children this year, and organized these so fun and educational things for them to do, and have seen them throw up, and have comforted their dramatic tears on multiple occasions are my HEROES. I do not say that lightly. Teaching is a life commitment, not an 8-3 commitment. They are more exhausted than we are and probably know the number of hours, not just days, until the end. I would do all this chaotic mess all year long for these Heroes who are giving their lives to our babies. 

And if you have never read this post by Jen Hatmaker, I must insist you do it. Right now. Click away. You will wet your pants laughing. It's my favorite blog post in the history of all blogging.

Grace for the End of The Year,
Martha  


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