Stick A Fork In Us

Okay, peeps.

I think I’m ready to officially call it:

This has been the hardest school wrap-up we’ve ever experienced (bold, I know, but I think it’s accurate).

The countdown began way too early.

The moods tanked way too fast.

The learning took a steep nose dive earlier than usual.

The volunteer commitments ramped up to an all-time high.

And the kiddos, teachers and parents are just DONE.

I’ve been having many conversations with other parents and teachers up at school to try and pinpoint the source of difficulty this year, and the only variable that seems to have changed is the timing of standardized testing. Something I thought that might initially be a positive might have inadvertently screwed us.

But.

None of you want to hear (or, I guess, read) the logistics of all that. But you might be interested to know how it’s imploded our household. And today is a great example.

I was up at school for a couple hours in the morning, assisting with Field Day for the 1st and 5th graders, and went to sign out at the front office before returning later for a round with the 3rd graders. And I ended up going home with a plus one.

My son. 

Poor dude has just been overly emotional, overly tired, over-stimulated, and just basically alllllll the things we all feel, but less filtered, because he’s seven years old.

For context: he’d taken a few hard knocks during some of the rowdier Field Day activities, and I was around for one of them to give him some Mama love and backup. But the second one happened out of my range. So when I was signing out at the front office, he was shuffling down the hallways with an ice pack on his neck, courtesy of the school nurse.

As soon as he saw me there (yup, I was in the wrong place at the wrong time), he gave me the puppy dog eyes, his voice quivered, and the tears gathered. He pleaded to come home, that his neck hurt and he was just tired, and after a decent few rounds of failed negotiations…guess who got checked out of school.



If I didn’t know better, I’d assume he was sick. 

And, you know what? Maybe he is and it hasn’t presented itself, yet. I mean, considering our heinous Fall/Winter, we’ve had a considerably solid run so we’re probably due. Ugh.

But for now, all I know is: my boy is stick-a-fork-in-me-done. 

Even the school nurse commiserated that alllll the kids are just ready to end the school year and all the “fun” diversions and end-of-year theme days and events and Field Days and parties might actually be hindering things, since we all know kiddos really thrive on routine. And that’s been scattered quite a bit.

Anywho. 

My boy stayed put on the couch (another sign he’s tired), and by the time we went to go retrieve his sissies, he’d perked up a bit—though he was still quite low-key.

The hubby was a wonderful pinch-hitter during lunchtime, coming home to hang with Little Man so I could run back up to school and give Chicklet some lunchtime love, since my third round of Field Day volunteering had gone off the rails.



In other fun news (but, also, a prime example of pne of these overwhelming “extras” this time of year): Chicklet got to stay after school today for a raucous dance party and ice cream sundae event that one of her friend’s won at the school carnival. I continue to be so grateful to my girlies’ friend groups for being happy, supportive, and drama free.



Thanks to a hefty thunderstorm that went on for hours, I threw the kiddos in the shower and we had a movie afternoon—just what they needed.



I have another school volunteer commitment on Thursday, and then next Tuesday might (might) signal the final, random time I have to assist with something up there for the year.

But we are officially NINE morning wake-ups and counting until summer, and we are so ready to relax that 6 a.m. alarm clock.

Wishing for a bit smoother Hump Day, mañana, peeps.

Over and out.