And Just Like That, it's Over

            "School starts next week," my parents would inform my sister and me in days of yore, or the Admiral and I to the Princesses modernly.

            "What," we/they exclaim, "summer's over?  Where did it go?"  It is the same every year, and I wonder at the shock.  We/you have known it is coming since May when school let out, but it does seem to come every year as a stunning surprise.

            Perhaps, because we have crammed so much living into three months, and we are shocked that life could go from being so full of doing things we want to do, to doing things we have to do.  The latter is a lot less fun than the former, and I was then, and some argue, still am, more about the fun than the "have to". 

            As the Princesses and Admiral lament their having to go back to work, I think it my duty to clarify the picture.  "It isn't as if you didn't do anything over the summer," I say, looking at the bills, and trying to figure a way to make them fit the budget that the summer's activities have busted.  "You've been on a choir tour, to two family reunions, a major road trip to Memphis with cousins, two major church camps, a drama camp, singing lessons, and when you weren't doing that, you were boxing, swimming, or going to the beach, not to mention, parties, movies, and about a dozen other things that drain the bank."  I am glad summer is over, the credit cards need to cool off, but I don't say that out loud.

            "School starts next week," still brings a shudder to me, but for different reasons.  When I was a kid, it was issued as a warning.  First, that summer was almost over, and second, that I had better get my "do well in school" frame of mind in gear, and whenever I hear it, or say it, my gut involuntarily clenches with dread.  These days I am the declarer of doom for the children, but when I utter those dark words to the Princesses, it is also as a declaration of freedom, as in, things can now get back to a more ordered way.  There will be an added measure of peace in the house, because I know where they will be for at least six hours of the day, and I won't have to drive them all over lower Alabama. 

             "School starts next week," for the kids, declares that not every day is a holiday, as it was during the summer, which makes weekends, starting with Friday, more significant, and jam-packed with energy to get things done.  They are a mini-summer for the next nine months.     "School starts next week", brings to life for them, the adage, "early to bed, early to rise."  I never did get the rest of the saying.  I've always gotten up early, and go to bed at a reasonable hour, but I cannot say that either "early to", "bed", or "rise", has made my health better, my wealth increase, or my wisdom more profound.  It could be that I am maxed out on health, wealth, and wisdom, that this is all I get; in which case, those words of wisdom were not, so I will stick with just the first six of the saying.

            "School starts next week," has a much deeper meaning for us this year.  The Princesses are going to public school for the first time, which means that I, as a parent, who gets sick with the first whiff of a classroom, am going to public school too.  Why do I feel like I am hearing those words rather than speaking them?

            I was a terrible student in my youth, and still am.  I did not, and do not, like school.  I love to learn, and to teach, but not in the confining order of academics.  God bless, and more power to, those who do, but it ain't for me. 

            With the advent of our venture into public schools, I find that I am again subjected to rules and regulations similar to those I was forced, and I do mean forced, to live by for twelve years of my life.  The Admiral informed me, reading out of the handbook, that I cannot take my own child out of school for such events as book releases and signings, or doctor appointments without the principal's permission, and if I do, I, the adult parent, am subject to spending time in Saturday detention.  She probably didn't say that, but being in student-back-to-school mode, it is my interpretation. 

            Whoa, and woe, woe to the principal who ever tries to tell me what I can, and cannot do with my own child, and triple-dog-woe to he, or she, who tries to put me in detention.  The Breakfast Club will seem like a lark in the park compared to what will happen in school that Saturday.  See what I mean about my not being a good student?  It all comes back now.

            "School starts next week," I said to the Princesses with all the emotions listed above, glee, anticipation, and dread, but not fear.  Not until they shouted with bright eyes and beaming smiles, "That means we get to go shopping!"  Oh goodness, will this never end?  And to think, the credit and bank cards had just cooled sufficiently to be handled.  They will surely melt this week.

            Please, excuse me; I have to rise early to work more.  What was it about this wealth thing again?