The big kids started school last Thursday and have barely broke into a routine. The holiday fell on what would have been day three of their senior and freshman year at high school. Start and stop have never been my first choice for beginning strong but I don't make up the district schedule.
The little kids start today. Second and fourth grade are waiting for their crisp new shirts that I didn't get a chance to wash first, alongside new backpacks, and lunch containers from last year. I anticipate the complaining at pick up that the day was too long, too hot, and that uniform infractions were rampant. I'm the mom with the uniform police officer for a son. He should really get a stipend for his diligent duties.
Each year I anticipate the collection of school supplies, new clothes, and acclimation to early wake up and packing lunches to get easier, and each year the duties progressively get tougher. Returning to routine isn't actually tough, it's just different.
This year I don't look forward to the routine. I like the nebulous schedule of summer and deciding what the day will hold only minutes before getting into the car. I love no homework, no projects, and used swimming suits hanging from hooks in my laundry room. I like warm weather.
I'm adjusting my attitude. The routine is coming and I cannot deny its existence.
Happy first day of school, to me.