This is a week of holidays, my friends. Yesterday was the last 5:45 Monday. Today is the last 5:45 Tuesday. Tomorrow is... well, you get the idea. It's the end of the school year and I'm the only one that's happy about it in my whole house.
When I was a kid, I loved school. Deeply and passionately. I was always ready for school to start back at the end of the summer. I looked forward to new teachers and new school supplies and the hope that somehow this year, insufferable know-it-all's would be in fashion.
For all of that, though, I was also always ready when summer vacation came. I was ready to read what I wanted, to sleep late, to lay outside in the shade and to have nothing particular to do.
Maren has been out for a little over a week and is fine with it, more or less. She misses her friends; she's happy to be seeing more of Papaw. She wants to see her teacher; she is glad to not eat lunch at school anymore. Etc, etc.
Brynna, on the other hand, is dreading Friday like the plague. She likes school, she hates home. She wants to go to school forever, year round, without stopping. To which I roll my eyes. She's going to have a great summer. She's going to two, TWO, sleepaway camps. I've got some fun stuff planned and so does her dad. And most importantly, because of Snowmaggedon 2014, also known as the Year of Elsa, it's only going to be about seven weeks long.
All I see is seven weeks of sleeping to the decadent hour of 7:30. Right now, I'm getting to work at 7:30, which is an hour before I need to be here, but what else am I going to do with that stupid hour?
Friday also marks the conclusion of my fourth year of 5:45. I have survived 40% of my agony. Just six more years and I'll... Well, in six years, I'm sure something else will happen and I'll be back to 5:45, but let me have my delusions, okay?
And yeah, on another, sadder, harder-to-deal with note, Friday marks my beginning as a mother of a fifth grader. I'm not exactly sure how I got here. It seems like I was just fighting her first grade teacher, trying to convince her that Brynna could succeed in first grade. Like ten minutes ago, I was in my very first IEP meeting, getting scared to death. Now, my kid is in the top of her class, reading on a high middle school level, hitting every benchmark for excellence they set up. Oh, and yeah, she's done with her IEP. She has completed every goal she had and now she's just a general population kid.
This time next year, I'm going to be a middle school mom. Like, how does that happen?
I feel like I should be saddened by the way the time passes, by how grown-up my girls are and how scary life is getting. (Did I mention sleepaway camp? Without me?) But, honestly, it just doesn't seem all that real. They aren't growing up, they're the same amazing kids they've always been. Bright and shining and full of attitude.
Maybe that's how time passes. It just keeps moving while you are busy feeling like nothing has changed, nothing can change. Like this is all a dream and you're going to wake up with babies in cribs.
I'm not sure how I got here from celebrating a hiatus in my 5:45's.
Party at my house? Whatever, so long as it doesn't start until after 10 a.m.