We are trying to reign in the late nights and leisurely mornings
and remember what a routine feels like.
We've been taking stock of school clothes and scrutinizing backpacks with holes to see if they can hang on for one more year of being stuffed
with books and paper and glued crafts.
There has been a house wide search for lunch boxes
and some fearful discoveries inside said lunch boxes.
And I have been dropping small hints about the coming change like,
"Bedtime is going to be earlier" and "There are new chores that will be accompanying the new allowance that you will be getting" and
"It will be so fun to see all your friends, won't it?"
My high point of the back to school season is buying school supplies.
I get a high heady feeling at the thought of untouched binder paper,
subject dividers and clean binders smelling of new plastic.
My low point of the back to school season is homework.
Homework is my nemesis. My killer of joy. The thorn in my back-to-school side.
We've been know to have breakdowns in past years at the rude onset of homework so short on the heels of gloriously free summer.
Tears. Sobbing. High pitched keening.
I do most of the keening. It wells up within me from a deep sense of betrayal.
A betrayal that came the moment I sat down with Jack after his first day of school and realized I would be doing homework for the next 17 years.
We do what can to try to make it easy on ourselves.
Homework snacks. Light banter. Newly sharpened pencils to lessen the homework gloom.
And we try to keep the boys sharp during the summer so the homework backlash isn't so terrible.
We read. A ton. And Scott quizzes them at dinner with math problems.
Even Addie gets in on the action, knowing the answer of 1+1.
We're trying to train him early.
I did get a little sense of satisfaction, yesterday,
when I saw Jack with a calculator in his summer brown hands.
I thought to myself here is a boy with a thirst for knowledge.
Maybe next week won't be such an adjustment.
And then I made the mistake of asking him what he was doing.
He glanced up from the calculator and said,
"I'm trying to figure out how to spell "booger" with numbers."
It's going to be a great school year. I can feel it in my bones.