Hey Alexa, When Does School Start?
I wish I could be one of those moms who love summer. I just don’t. The sun’s out and so is my patience. Please tell me it isn’t just me who feels like my kids become feral animals at this time. I knew things were going south when my eight-year-old forgot how to write the letter R the other day.
Apparently I’m not the only one hanging on by a thread. These are just a few of the thoughts our New Orleans Mom writers have had this summer.
I’ve lost track of shower days.
We are lucky if we find a pair of socks, really lucky if we find any that match.
I look at their rooms that look like fifteen-year-olds live there. I just quietly close the door.
I explain EVERY MORNING why they have to go to camp and can’t just stay home.
I imagine the summer bike rides we should go on, and after the eight hour work and camp day, I agree that a movie marathon (yet again) is the right choice.
The constant togetherness is taking a toll on me. Is that bad to say?
We have all caught enough viruses to keep us immune for the next school year.
Chlorine has changed the texture of their hair.
Bedtime left the vocabulary.
Routines became a foreign concept.
They are eating like they are Haaland training for the World Cup.
The summer packet would have been finished already with the amount of time you just spent complaining about it.
Why is there even mandatory summer work?
It’s 5 o’clock somewhere with the screen time.
Please stop eating all the snacks.
Please stop fighting.
Please stop complaining about being bored.
I don’t have any profound advice or a solution. We just needed to say it out loud. If you’re counting down the days until school starts while simultaneously feeling guilty for counting them down, you’re not the only one.
