(My weekend project: covering this lampshade with fab Kaffe Fassett fabric. Even the members of the Testosterone Club--i.e. everyone in my house except me, the lone female--like it.)
If there were ever a reason to home school, Back-to-School Open House would be it. I've done two today. The first one nearly did me in, and the second one about killed me.
First Open House: Our Fine Middle School. Jack went to his advisory, picked up his schedule, and then we hiked back and forth across campus to find all of his classes. Jack, being Jack, had to go to each class in order, so that we couldn't go to French, then Language Arts, even though they were right next to each other. No, we had to go to French, then Movement (what is Movement? Who knows?), which is twenty miles that way, then come back to Language Arts, twenty miles this way. Will and I finally gave up and told Jack to meet us in the library when he was done.
As we hiked and panted, many cheerful greetings were exchanged with the other families of Our Fine Middle School. Lots of oh yes, oh my, summer was wonderful, but it went by so fast! No one ever mentions those days in July you would have gladly traded your children for a pound of dried beans. No! We are happy happy good good!
(Would I prefer everyone walk around and tell the truth about their lives? Hmmm ... knowing how awful some people's truths are, I'm not sure I actually would. Food for thought.)
Aside from hiking forty miles in 96-degree heat, I enjoyed Our Fine Middle School's open house. We've known a lot of these families for six years now, and I only feel halfway awkward and shy around them. By graduation, I'll be a comfortable as an old hat. Sock. Shoe. Whatever.
Our Fine Lower School's open house is a piece of cake--the kids stay in the same classroom most of the day, so no twenty-mile hikes--except that I'd talked to so many people this morning (happy happy good good!) that I believe I was rather incoherent by this afternoon. I just sort of wandered like a cloud around the second grade pod and waved vaguely in one direction, then another. Will and his buddies all gathered together and started playing a game which involved stomping on each other's feet. Nobody stopped them. All the moms just shrugged, like, whatcha gonna do?
So school starts tomorrow. My children, those perverse creatures, have continued to be sweet and pleasant. They are mocking me, I believe. We can behave this way, they seem to be saying. We just choose not to.
Actually, I think they're just happy to be going back to school. And want to make sure I'll miss them. And I'm sure I will. Won't that be nice?
I'm a writer and a stay-at-home mom who keeps meaning to mop the floors because I think it would make me happy if I did. I love books and music and writing, spend entirely too much time in the dentist's chair (I bet I have more crowns than you do), and used to think I was sort of bohemian, but now I wonder. No tattoos. Minivan. That story.