It’s the end of the school year and shit’s falling apart like Gwen Stefani’s NuvaRing up in here.
Tests, recitals, awards ceremonies, field trips, field days, field mice, crazy hat day, crazy shirt day, crazy sock day and every fund raiser under the fucking sun is knocking at your front door and you’re all “wasn’t it just the beginning of the year?”
I haven’t lost 20 pounds like I had planned to back in October, because I’ve spent all year watching Outlander, eating carbs and folding laundry. What have I become?
Last week, my children came home with every piece of art they did all year. Great. Let me laminate these in my spare time and put them on my completely unrealistic posterity wall.
A typical morning these days:
Daughter: “Mom! Where is my favorite owl necklace?! It’s crazy necklace day!”
Me: “There are jumper cables in my living room. Do you think I know where your favorite owl necklace is?”
(What the actual fuck is with all the ‘crazy’ days? Remember when we just put on our Guess jeans and went to school? crazy crazy crazy.)
Daughter: “I don’t have any clean underwear!”
Me: “Me neither! Just wear your brothers!”
Son (at 8:15 pm): “I have a school project due tomorrow. I need to make a diorama of an Incan tribe invading Poland…” (or something equally ridiculous)
Me: “Just go watch HobbyKidsTV. At least that mom is doing something with her fucking life.”
I don’t even bother wearing my “good” yoga pants anymore. I just roll up to school in my husband’s sweatpants, looking like a hot mess and am thankful that my kids are wearing pants.
Hold on bitches, summer is right around the corner. In two weeks you can listen to your kids complain about how bored they are for a hundred days.