The two faced nature of the end of the school year

standard June 6, 2014 Leave a response

There are five days of school left in the school year. Well, more like 4 days since today’s a half day and is already half gone and the last day is also a half day.

Four precious days of alone time. Four days where I have no one to answer to for a few hours, no one looking over my shoulder as I type, no one asking me a bazillion questions every five minutes, no one arguing right next to me, in the next room, in the yard, anywhere.

Four more days of not having to make lunch for anyone other than myself. (Wait, only three more days of that since the last day is a half day.)

Four more days of not having to be the MC to two little people’s days.

I’m mentally ticking off the minutes until my relative freedom ends. Until I’m not alone, at all, until they go back to school August 20th. (Why yes, that’s already on my calendar, why do you ask?)

I’m a little anxious about the whole “never alone” thing that’s looming ahead. I know from past summers that come July I’ll already feel like a big hen is perching on my head pecking, pecking, pecking away at the thoughts, the words, until all I can hear is noise both inside and outside of my head.

And yet, this morning I woke up, stretched, and smiled as I remembered that there are only four days left until the kids are finally free from school.

Come Friday we can get up when we want, get dressed when we want, eat when and what we want, not pack lunches, not do homework, not worry about finding socks to wear inside our shoes.

Four more school days and we can go sockless all. summer. long.

Four more school days and we can stop worrying about getting to school before the bell rings, about whether we forgot something at home, about girl drama, teacher drama, school drama.

Four more school days and we can heave a big sigh of relief, brush ourselves off, and put another year behind us.

The working/writing side of me is freaking out about the summer. The mom side of me is dancing a gig.

I love lazy summer days. I love letting the girls just play. I love the creativity that emerges after hours of unstructured time. I love hanging out at the pool, going to get ice cream, spending hours at the library or the park. I love the lack of obligations and the way summer days melt into one another until no one really knows exactly what day it might be.

I think it all boils down to the fact that I’m not good at transitions. Never have been. I don’t do change very well. I like stability and continuity. I like knowing what tomorrow will bring, what situations will have to be managed. The start of a new season, with no plans, no established routine, makes me anxious, even knowing that we have done it all before, that we’ve even enjoyed it all before. It’s just a question of transitioning to that new state, to getting into the new flow.

I’m sure that getting through the next week will prove to be a challenge as my brain waffles between anticipation of both bliss and doom, never quite knowing which side to land on.

All I can do to prepare myself is to enjoy the alone time while it lasts and do my best to plan out the next 9 weeks. Even though that goes against the very nature of summer.

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