The chorus “schooooooooooooool’s out for summer!” has been running through my head for the past week. It’s hard to believe summer is upon us already. I, for one, am NOT swimsuit ready. I’m barely even t-shirt ready. If I could just stay covered up in my winter coat for a bit longer, that would be great.
I work in a school three days a week. While I am as eager as all other school employees to enjoy some time off of work; for me, summer vacation is a double edged sword. While it is nice to not have to wake up at dawn and shower every day, I do miss the two days per week when I am just home with my youngest. This year he went to preschool in the mornings, so I had some time to get stuff done around the house, run errands, go to the gym, etc. The afternoons were also fairly peaceful and I enjoyed my time with my little guy.
The peace and quiet that we enjoyed is soon to be dramatically shattered. The older kids are done with school for the year next week. I don’t know what it’s like in other people’s homes, but in my house we have a pretty solid two week period of hell at the start of every summer. The kids fight, they don’t know what to do with so much unstructured time, and I silently grieve the peace and quiet that I previously enjoyed while the kids were in school.
As with all types of grief, there is a process. It happens every year beginning mid-May or so, and it looks like this;
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