The Most Wonderful Time of the Year?

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Last year, I wrote this post about how much I hate Labor Day and how it mockingly heralds the end of summer.  But this year, there’s a bit of change a foot.  For the first time in my – ahem – forty-something years, I’m actually starting to count the days.

Its been an extra long summer due to the old teacher’s strike (which is highly likely to carry on into September) and Shorty #1 is bored!  We’ve tried to keep her well programmed with summer camps and what-nots but she is done.  She misses her routine and she clearly missed the vibrant social life that the classroom offers.  I’m ready for her to go back to school.  I’m ready for her to get back down to the business of learning.  And I’m ready for her to get settled into a routine.

I’m also ready for everyone to finish their freaking holidays and get back to work.  The summer slowdown this year has seriously cramped my style.  Everything upon everything I’ve been working on has been on hold while the masses are on summer vacation.  HONESTLY, if I get one more out-of-office email, I’m going to puke.  Yes, yes, you’re away for the next 15 days.  Quit bragging that you will only have “limited access to email.”  We all know that’s total bullshit.  Unless you’re spending your holiday at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean or in my kitchen (which is a cell black out zone for some bizarre reason) – you only have limited access to email because you don’t WANT to have access to email.  Just be honest:

“Please be advised that I am now on vacation with people that I love.  I don’t love you because we are merely business associates so I have no plans to respond to your annoying message until I am back in the office and have had at least one full day to complain to everyone about all the email I need to catch up on.”

Yes!  Bring on September and lets all get back into the swing of things.  Besides, Christmas break is just around the corner.

 

The Most Awful Time of the Year

Shorty #1 selects some Coachella inspired headgear for her first day back to school.

Shorty #1 selects some Coachella inspired headgear for her first day back to school.

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!