I made it! I did! The swirling vortex of death tried to suck me under, but alas! The vortex availeth not.
Curses to May.
Pretty sure it’s of the devil.
All I know is that sometime around April 15, I can feel my heart rate begin to increase, the pulsing in my head becomes akin to a gong-ish choir (“gong-ish”…feel free to borrow…), and I think I can actually see minions squeezing the very life out of my calendar. Jen Hatmaker referred to May and the chaos it ensues as a “turmoil of doom” (http://jenhatmaker.com/blog/2013/05/30/worst-end-of-school-year-mom-ever) and HOLY MOLY! Is she ever right?!? December’s got NOTHIN’ on May.
Between end-of-the-year performances, parties, celebrations, commemorations, tournaments, games, and awards ceremonies, I’ve got no time to make the 9 teacher gifts I need! Not to mention the thank-you cards and obligatory gifts for the coaches, bus drivers, crossing guards, janitors, music teachers, mailman, and that guy you see walking down the street every day. Then don’t forget that you’re a room parent, Jess! That adds on planning parties for every class. Let’s just throw in two field days, three field trips, and 7500 play dates.
And just for kicks, how about Hubby’s 40th birthday?! Sure, because Party Planner Galore can handle that too! NOT.
Have I mentioned how much I loathe parties? Asking me to plan one could only be topped in joy by a delightful trip to the ER to have my stomach pumped. I remember the days when birthday parties were something along the lines of “Hey friend for life, come join me for cake! Maybe we’ll play Red Rover while we’re at it!” Now, the decorations, the games, and the food all have to match the theme.
A theme?! Isn’t the theme “I’m getting older today!”?
The part that frustrates me so is not the elaborate necessity of the various party parts, but rather, the fact that I have decided I need to succumb to the elaboration. I now spend over a month planning each party because heaven forbid the guests at my “Spy” party should eat cheese cubes instead of Babybel cheese discs cut to look like ninjas.
Anyway, I digress.
If April showers bring May flowers, I have no idea, because I’m too darned busy to stop and notice them. Basically, I just put my head down, keep my breath steady, and plow through, not looking up in a vain attemp to avoid passers-by asking me to volunteer for yet another class picnic.
I stand now as an elite member of my ever-growing clique of fellow mommies who has actually forgotten a child at school.
Oh yes. It has happened.
But hey! While he was there, he was able to distribute the nine teachers gifts, homemade cards, and myriad thank-you notes. Let’s just say I planned it that way.
And now here we are; in June. Praise The Lord and Hallelujah! I do believe I can hear the angelic choir singing.
The blissful days of summer. Where my ever-present munchkins get to scream their bloody heads of at each other for 14 hours a day…and I’ve never been so glad. I’ll happily take the screeches of sibling rivalry over the domineering demands of May. For an hour or so…
Welcome, summer. I’m so very, very glad you are here.
And reader, I’m glad you are here too. Thanks for not leaving while I was M.I.A.