Back-to-School. Whew. I Made It.

It's back-to-school time which means that this week the kids and I have been to the water park one last time, have seen one last movie (Diary of a Wimpy Kid:  Dog Days - which wasn't as painful as I thought it would be), and they have hit my one last nerve.

As much as I was looking forward to the summer - sleeping late, lazy days, fun activities - I'm looking forward to back-to-school just about as much.  My brain can no longer handle hearing "He's touching me!" or "Stop copying!" 15 times a day.  If I hear the theme song to Phineas and Ferb one more time, I'm going to throw my TV out of the window.  And if I'm awakened, after sleeping like a dead person - because of packing in the zoo, the mall, the movies, and the bowling alley the day before - to a little face staring and me and saying, "What are we doing today, Mom?" I think I'll have to start my own petition to have myself committed.

But come Monday...I'll be able to say, "School.  You're going to school."

So I'll just put that petition away until Winter Break.

Every year around this time, I come up with plans:  What am I going to do when the kids go back to school?  The list is usually the same.

1. Go get first pedicure of the summer.
2. To the pool at least once by yourself and just sit (trashy magazine required).
3. Sit on your couch for 5 uninterrupted minutes.

And even though, I'm never able to make a single one of those things happen, it just makes me feel better to know that I could. 

This year, what back-to-school really means for me is that I will actually be able to work for a few hours a day without someone screaming down into my office, "I NEED A SNACK" so that I can scream back, "THEN GET ONE."  I'll be able to participate in conference calls without someone standing 2 inches away from my face, just waiting for me to hang up so that they can ask me if we have vinegar for the latest exploding experiment they would like to perform in my clean kitchen.  I'll be able to finish a thought in an email without someone coming into my office, hysterically upset over a life-ending scratch on their hand that I can't even see, but needs a band-aid right now.

I think the kids are ready to go back anyway - I'm sure I haven't always been a picnic to be around this summer.  I think they're a little frustrated with my requests to do outrageous things like pick up a soaking wet bathing suit off the bedroom floor and hang it up before it smells so bad I have to re-carpet the house, thanks to that one mildewy spot.  It seems to come as a surprise to them every night that I need them to take a shower and wash off all of the homemade tattoos they've given each other before it all rubs off on their sheets.  And I'm sure they're getting headaches from the eye-rolls they've been giving me all summer when I ask them to clean up all of the Goldfish crumbs, popcorn kernels, and various other food particles off my sofa, coffee table, and carpet.

I know, I know.  I'm a tyrant.

For the last few days, I have been gazing longingly at the boxes of school supplies I have lining my dining room (by the way - liquor boxes are the perfect size for storing what they'll need for the year.  I knew my wine habit would come in handy someday).  The kids were excited about going out and getting their new pencils, notebooks, and flashdrives (yes, flashdrives for 3rd graders.  God, I feel old), which they are every year until they realize that they're going to have to actually use them. 

I take that back - my girls were excited to get their school supplies.  My son, on the other hand, gave me a tired expression as I was in the middle of a throw-down at Wal-Mart with another elementary school mom over the last Primary Composition Journal and simply said, "I'm bored."

At which point I wanted to send him to military school.

The only thing that really has me worried right now is looking at the calendar of after school activities and wondering if it is going to be physically possible to make them happen.  Boy Scouts, choir, art, piano, and ballet seem to be over-lapping in a frightening way in my Google Events.  From 4-7 PM just about every day, I will be in my car, whipping in and out of parking lots, trying to get everyone where they are supposed to be.  Two out of three kids will always be complaining that they have to wait for the other one to finish an activity and my car will be littered with granola bar wrappers and water bottles as I try and stave off hunger long enough to get them home, make dinner, do homework, and get in bed so that we can do it all over again the next day.

But I can handle that because, come Monday, at least 6 hours a day will be mine.

All mine.