As a kid, I kind of liked getting back to school. We’d shop for back to school clothes, I’d get a new pencil box and TrapperKeeper and I looked forward to seeing my friends and meeting my teacher.
As a parent, in this day and age, things are VERY DIFFERENT.
Now, I’m a somewhat haggard and fed up mom, done dealing with the never-ending stream of sibling bitching and fighting and the constant “What are we gonna do today, Mom?” question – like I’m some fucking social director like Julie the Cruise Director from the Love Boat. (80’s TV reference my younger generation mom-readers. Look it up.)
I’m finishing summer on fumes of parental give-a-shitness.
Can someone else occupy my children now, PLEASE!
In this state of mind, I endure the school supply shopping. I’m at once elated that this activity signals that the start of my personal freedom is close at hand… but at the same time I’m overwhelmed trying to find the 30+ specific supplies that each kid needs for their respective grade. I don’t even know what some of this shit is!
I ask you, what’s the difference between a stick pen, a felt tip, a ball point and a roller ball pen? And who the fuck cares so much?
I swear the supply list is like a rider for some very particular pain-in-the-ass entertainment figure.
I bet Beyoncé’s list of demands isn’t as exacting as the school supply lists of today.
I end up going to four stores, with the kids in tow (always a fun adventure) to find it all. Actually, I can’t say that I DID find them all. Fuck it. Close enough.
Next year, I’m biting the bullet and buying the shrink-wrapped, delivered-to-your-kid’s-classroom door, school supply packs you can order – at a HUGE markup – through the school.
My fucking sanity is worth that much.
Happy New School Year!