I'm not positive, but I think I'm being tested.
First, they threw all the school start times in the blender. And it has taken me three weeks, and one fancy post-it note, to get used to who gets up when and what time each ones bus is going to come. And we've still missed it a couple of times. And I have had to drive like 146 mph to get home in the afternoons to 'beat that bus' (it's like a little game I play- but that is neither here nor there- although I have yet to loose a single time this year, booya).
Then we had 'online registration' with bonus copies of 39 forms per child to fill out at home. But I did it. Do you hear that? I did it! And had them all in their respective folders the next day, as instructed. HA!
Then they start with specials days. Gym, Art, Music, Library. And with THREE children, they are all different. It's like trying to track 12 different things every single day. And Allyson started swimming this year, which means DAILY swim suit washage. And package.
Spelling tests- whose is when and what words should they practice. And when. And how many times.
Online textbooks and gradebooks. I can hardly take the pressure.
And just when it seems manageable- here come the fundraisers. Who has to sell how much by when and fill out which 96 forms and return what to get a who? Can't I just write someone a check and be done? In theory, I mean. If my checking account weren't already sucked dry by the PTO.
There has also been various after school event opportunities (for allyson), back to school nights, ice cream socials, band practice tracking charts, book sales, school pictures, an afterschool dance, lunch money account reminders, book rentals, Fall softball leagues, girl scouts events and meetings, skating parties, and twenty thousand other things I can't remember. I mean, I've already been asked to donate baked goods for crying out loud.
It might paint a more perfect picture if I describe an event from our recent ice cream social. Sam has been asking when he can join 'the popcorn boys', AKA the Boyscouts. There was a table set up in the lobby. Despite my attempts to completely distract him, he noticed, and so we stopped. The scout leader made a super sad face and said he was so sorry, but they didn't offer cubscouts to kindergartners, he'd have to wait until next year in the first grade. And I kissed him. And then I did a cartwheel. And three flips. A whole extra year to learn to juggle what we've already got. Deal! See ya next year popcorn pimp!
I've noticed I'm developing a nervous twitch and my toes wiggle all the time. I feel the need to check the calendar every single day, 36 times at various intervals. I've noticed that this has gotten worse since I got the spreadsheet of Fall events for Emily's girl scout troop.
Yesterday I got an email from Sams kindey teacher. She has assigned colors for each day this week. And that was it. I know I can't do this. There is no possible way. And Sam can't read- so see? There is no hope for him. Or me. We fail. You win school. Ya hear me? YOU WIN! I have no doubt that Sam will wear blue on red day, Emily will wear dress shoes on gym day, and there won't be a library book in sight for that day. We will have sore throats on NWEA testing day, we will be out of eggs on bake the brownies for the bake sale day, no one will have their hair combed on picture day, spelling words probably won't get studied- and if they do it will probably be the wrong list, and I don't think that a single person here can possibly sling another single item be it a coupon book, sausage, magazine or can of nuts.
I fail. You win. 0-1.
Gotta go, it's time to check the calendar again.