Today, Lily ran out of school shouting about a helicopter landing** in the playground, spilling the details of a Tier 1 lockdown and reenacting Mr. Reynolds, the beloved custodian, as he ran outside in a frenzy (to aliens? a helicopter? from a fire?). I began to wonder if Lily needed a psychiatrist or if somehow, Lily's school has become a military staging ground.
Really, we have four more days of this drama? Can't we just call it quits? End it now. Let's stick a fork in the 2012-13 school year, so I don't enter summer with a case of the nerves.
It has been almost-summer-vacation for almost forever.
Between my 19 children (estimate), choir, Girl Scouts, soccer, 8,000 dance classes, horseback riding, homework, lemonade and 12 other responsibilities that I am forgetting, I am on my last leg. I am one of those cats on those locker posters who is absolutely not "hanging in there."
I need a vacation.
In the midst of the end-of-the-school-year, I've developed a border line hatred/annoyance/love/hate/mostly hate/slight adoration/ire/distaste for many, many people. I know this sounds absolutely horrible. But I've grown sick of everyone and their intrigues or lack of intrigues or interests in intrigues or misspelling of the word intrigues.
I want everyone to go on vacation, far away from me.
My best friend Rachel, who is much nicer than I, told me not to write a blog entitled "People who I hate." She also advised me against writing something called, "I hate EVERYONE." And definitely said it was a bad idea to list the people I hate by name and occupation.
Apparently hating everyone is bad for the blog business.
But, I think you all might understand. The thing is, by June, we have all been cooped up together in tight quarters for way too long. The school parking lot has grown smaller, the soccer field has shrunk and the dance waiting room has become the lobby of a Microtel. We've all volunteered together, made small talk, laughed at our children, commiserated over too much homework, cheered and baked cupcakes.
We've made the best of chaos. We've adored each other and even irritated each other. We've come back for more because we said we would and gosh-darn-it, our kids will have kick-ass childhoods if it is the last thing we do.
We've done it for MONTHS and MONTHS and MONTHS. We've been tied together in the three-legged race for 26 miles and now it is time to cross the finish leave and head home. It is time to leave the party, before someone calls the police or gets kicked or pushed or run over by a white dodge grand caravan being driven by a cute-yet-insane lady with three children, a giant dog and this adorable midwestern husband who loves everyone.
Because he is midwestern. And in the midwest, school has been out since Memorial Day.
Anyway, I digress (and I hate you. Just kidding. I really don't hate you. I love you!).
How does four more days feel like almost forever?
**Note: apparently Lily's school yard is a regular landing pad for MediVacs. Of course.