Labor Day. Ugh. What a crummy holiday. A holiday that celebrates labor should have better name. Labor and Holiday – bit of an oxymoron, isn’t it? Holiday Day would be so much better.
My disdain for Labor Day is really more about the meaning of this date on the calendar; end of summer, back to school, no more white pants (and I just got a great pair of white CoH jeans on sale!). I hate holidays that signal the end of something like New Years Eve or even Sunday Evenings. Yes yes yes, I hear all you positive, glass is half full, lemonade drinkers out there. These endings all herald in a new beginning – a new week, a new grade a new year, an opportunity for a fresh start. Sure, this is true but sometimes we aren’t ready for things to end.
I spent my Labor Day tidying out closets and bedrooms, writing names in labels and packing school bags to get everyone ready to go back to the daily routine of school days. The sleepy whining, lunch packing and frantic nagging all working towards a crescendo as the clock ticks faster and faster to 9am. I envy those Moms arriving at the school well before the bell rings, calm and peaceful. Have they given their kids a Xanax as they woke up and lead them in a drug induced stupor to the classroom door? I’m sure they haven’t but c’mon, what’s the secret? I’m usually speed walking through the halls, hair wet and a conference call waiting, all the while encouraging (read: speaking firmly… ok, yelling) Shorty #1 to speed it up.
This is always the most amazing thing to me each morning. Why is it always such a surprise that we need to eat breakfast, put on shoes (really!) and remember school bags before we head out the door? Like we don’t need to do these things EVERY morning. Like the routine is COMPLETELY DIFFERENT every day? Really? No seriously, really?
As Labor Day heralds in the new school year with all the promise of a bright future, with young shining faces eager to embrace learning, this Mother secretly cries for the lost summer and morning routines that included cartoons in bed!
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