September is crazy busy, as usual. Over the past few years, since I've had school-aged kids, I've often wondered why it has to be this way.
September sucks. It's the end of easy summer living, and the return of making lunches, regimes, homework, practicing, shorter days and colder mornings, and, of course, general malaise.
Everyone is short-tempered and full of anxiety. I don't know why kids have to be full of anxiety, but that's the way it seems to go these days.
Alexander: "I didn't get froshed on the way home today!"
Kathleen: "Too bad."
Me: "That's good sweetie. Was anyone else seriously hurt or frightened or overly-froshed?"
Alex: "Yes! Nick got hit with a dozen eggs and then flour and maple syrup was dumped on him! And they say urine was in the mixture! Yah!" (Pause) "I'm scared..."
Me: "Oh. Yes, I saw that on the CBC last night."
Kathleen: "Mom! I lost the form they gave me in DPA (allegedly an acronym for Daily Physical Activity, which translates into once or twice a week)! My teacher is gonna kill me! What can I do?"
Me: "Not lose the form next time?"
Kathleen: "Argh! I...what?...I...hate..."
Me: "I will give you a note."
Alex: "YES! You will look so lame Kath!!! Notes make you lame!"
Kathleen: "Argh! Mom! I ...what? I...hate..."
Me: "OK, let me know what you want when you know what you want..."
After the CBC froshing news report, Alexander's school Principal announced to the student masses the next day that he was "embarrassed" by the the media attention.
I thought: How about being embarrassed by the fact that young girls in grade 9 were being assaulted by MEN in cars (grade 12) driving by and pelting them with eggs and other assorted foul-smelling, unnamed, but more-or-less easily identifiable ingredients like flour and urine?
Crap. Other men that age are in the army and off getting killed in Afghanistan. Not that I approve of that either. But we're talking about a HUGE difference in maturity here. I think the Principal should work on that...and stop focusing on the fact that the CBC ran the story and he's
embarrassed about it.
If my son were in grade 12 and driving around in a car dumping shit on young kids walking down the street, I'd kick his ass. I'm just saying.
Kathleen finally found her form. But now it's late. And she's still asking me what to do. Argh!
The whole thing about the letters and forms and permission slips, etc, etc, etc, is that they don't stop coming.
All through the school year, every week, they will continue to come. Forms, forms, forms.
Forms that need reading. Forms that need reading and signing. Forms that need reading, signing and duplicating and filing.
It never ends. Oh yeah, there are also forms that need reading, signing, and returning with properly-endorsed-cheques-thank-you-very-much.
Lots of those.
September just sucks...money right out of your account, and the spirit right out of you, sometimes.