Fall Mom

Fall Mom…

I am such a great Mom in the fall. After the craziness of summer, I’m so happy to get back to a routine and some free time away from my beloved children.

Summer just about brings me to my wits end every year. It always starts out well. I’m relieved to not have to pack lunches or return homework on time. Summer is a time of freedom, fun and childhood. We can swim, play outside, go for picnics and watch the stars. But by the next day, I’ve had it. What is it about children today who have a constant need for entertainment? If you say, “Go play” they’ll ask you what you want them to play. REALLY??? I can’t imagine that it was that way when I was a kid because my mom would have killed me!

And don’t get me started on the “Can I have a friend over?” and “Can I have a sleep-over?” By mid summer I’m not even sure who’s sleeping in the kids’ bed anymore. I see strange kids at the breakfast table and wonder who they belong to. I always said that I wanted to have the house where all the kids wanted to hang out – you know so I’d know where they were and who they were with. It sounds good in theory, but I wouldn’t mind sharing that blessed burden with someone else sometimes. At least until I can get a cup of coffee in me.

So summer is now behind us and I’m working hard to forget some of the darker moments. Then here comes fall – my favorite time of year. Beautiful colored leaves, crisp air, bonfires and apple cider. Did I mention that it’s also the time that kids go back to school? We shop for new clothes, back packs and lunch boxes. I’m pretty shot from the challenges of summer so I try to do this shopping without the kids. It does have a few drawbacks (“Mom, I’m 9 years old, I do NOT want a Bob the Builder lunchbox!”) but they usually outweigh the benefits (no one bugging me during shopping). With enough magic markers I’m convinced that I can make Bob look like a Transformer.

I love the forms that come home from school, I really do. I love to sit down at the table, get my best pen and fill everything in. It makes me feel efficient and organized if only temporarily.

Allergies, Food Issues, Emergency contacts, Special needs (this one is especially useful), Doctor’s name and number and “tell me a little something about your child”.

Check, check, check. I fill them out then put them right into the back pack to be returned the next day. Won’t the teacher be impressed with me? See what a good parent I am? Haven’t lost a form yet (one day in)! This is also where I get very enthusiastic about my volunteering abilities. I’ll sign up for any committee or classroom opportunity that comes my way. Three hours a week to help with reading club? No problem. Organize the class Christmas party? You bet. I’m sure the teachers know this because that’s why they ask the questions early – while the shine is still on the new backpacks. If they were to ask two weeks into the school year they would probably hit a wall of stony silence.

I forge onward, gracefully accepting my commitments, eagerly awaiting my turn to help in the class. This is usually when the cracks begin to show - small at first, then quickly gaining momentum. It starts when my youngest child comes home in tears.

“Mom, today was red shirt day and I’m the only one who didn’t wear a red shirt.”

Ok, for starters, really? She’s the only kid whose Mom didn’t have it together enough to remember this day? I highly doubt that. Don’t they have extra red shirts stashed somewhere for those of us that forget? Does my daughter even have a red shirt? Back to the crying child. Focus. Focus.

“The teacher said she sent the note home last week.”

Oh did she now? I’m full of self-righteous indignation at this point. I go to my handily placed basket that has been clearly labeled “action items”. I dig to the bottom, throwing aside $0 balance notices for the lunch accounts (need to get on that), countless book orders and a picture day order form (oops). There I find it, at the bottom, screaming out “RED SHIRT DAY”. Dang. What has happened to the system? I began it with such organization and good intention only to have it all fall apart two weeks later.

I suppose that I should be happy that I even received the note at all. If this involved my son, I would not have seen the note until much later. At the end of the year when I’m cleaning out his backpack, I would have found it there. Wet, slightly moldy and tinged a weird green color. I should be thankful for small miracles.

So I add “buy a red shirt” to a post it note and drop it into my action items box. Let’s see if that gets done… And so we mothers bravely push ahead ready for the challenges of the new school year. Sure, we know there will be moments of panic and agony. We know the kids will tell us at 11:00pm the night before that they need to bring in 32 Rice Krispie treats. We’ll rise to the challenge and stay up all night baking, covered in marshmallow goo. The children will be briefly thankful and we’ll be exhausted. It’s just what we do as the selfless mothers that we are. Still, just to be on the safe side, if you see me in the grocery store at 11:00 pm with nothing but boxes of Rice Krispies and Marshmallows in my cart, you might want to steer clear.