Back to school! So great! So exciting! Check out all the shit I can do!
It’s a great day when you get to venture out to Walmart without children. It’s also the saddest day when you fully embrace the level of excitement you feel walking into a Walmart alone. This is how it starts. In a few years, I’ll be purring on the couch wearing a Snuggie and ordering a Ronco “SET IT AND FORGET IT!” rotisserie. My future is so bright, I gotta wear the shades I ordered from QVC after another bout of insomnia.
Our routine was in a rut the size of my ass cheeked imprint on my couch, so, we’ve been walking to school on most-ish days. It’s been an exercise in actually exercising and futility. There is no amount of early that gets us there on time.
I am also packing lunches. I don’t know when or why I decided to take this on. That overachieving bitch is going to get a, “Wake up and smell the french roast!” slap on the face from me as soon as she makes another grand entrance in my mind wearing homemade facial scrub constructed from organic peach pits and raw, local honey.
Between the pre-dawn lunch packing and actual wearing of the brand new tennis shoes I bought two years ago when I promised myself I cared about fitness, is the stack of school paperwork I’ve already forgotten to sign.
Today was your child’s share day. He had to share his 1/2 eaten string cheese because you forgot…again.
P.S. You suck.
Your child’s educator
There is also the attending of school functions because it’s important to be there and because, I hear, everyone loves the screams of younger siblings. Especially in an auditorium during that time of the morning when you’ve had just enough coffee for survival, but, not enough to participate in the actual parenting of the screaming child that everyone insists is yours.
So, there’s that.
It’s never too early to feel like a failure and that is why, just two weeks in, I’m starting to eye the school lunch menu with both interest and desperation. Those “fish“sticks on Thursday might buy me an extra 11.4 minutes of sleep. My kids hate fish. I love sleep. I’m currently weighing my commitment to their happiness.
I fear for them. This is only September. What dark and terrifying depths of mediocrity will next May bring? I picture a bag of microwave popcorn thumb-tacked to the permission slip for last week’s field trip.
If you’re thinking, “Things can only look up!”, you’re very kind to assume this is my rock bottom. Thank you for believing in me.
Until next week, this is the world’s most mediocre mom, over and out.