It’s kind of like bringing sexy back, except, you know, not. It’s more like, I WANT to bring Summer back. Let’s just say the first day of school was not smooth.
No one wanted to get out of bed.
No one wanted to eat.
No one wanted to get dressed.
No one wanted to fix their hair, put on their make up, brush their teeth.
And when I say no one, I don’t mean me.
Finally, things started moving a bit. Everyone had clothes on. Half of the children ate breakfast.
Half of the children sat in the kitchen and cried because the radio played the damn Butterfly Kisses song. And ALL of the children have an asshole for a father. Thanks, Kidd Kraddick for trying to tug at people’s heart strings this morning. Maybe you should think about all the kids out there who don’t have dads in their lives. Ugh.
Finally, first day pics were taken, kids were in the car.
The traffic was the suck, as usual.
One kid out! No tears!
Now, to get the teary kid to school.
I have to go in with her, because her schedule is screwed.
You see, this really mean mom WE decided over the summer that band was not the best elective for Miss M. We already pay for guitar lessons. She’s taking all Pre AP classes. WE didn’t know how I could ever afford it plus listen to the freaking clarinet how we could fit it in to her schedule without something else suffering. So we marched up to the school a few weeks ago and asked to have her schedule changed. No problem, right?
Guess what got left off the schedule? Choir. Miss M’s very , very, favorite thing in the wide world. Now I’m feeling bad. Really, really bad. Because the one thing in the world that she loves is now missing from her schedule. And it’s my fault. Because I selfishly didn’t want her in band.
In my defense, (cause you know I gotta defend myself), I did find out she was only taking band because that’s where all her friends were AND she didn’t want to take P.E. And she really needs the P.E. All kids do. Why they even make it an option not to is beyond me.
So as of this morning, the schedule is still not fixed. The counselor promises it will be. And I hope she’s right. Or I’m gonna be taking Miss M to her office in her p.j.’s every morning and letting her deal with her until it is. I’ll bet she’ll fix it then.