Cafeteria ladies do not make enough money or garner enough respect. I know this, because after 20 minutes in the cafeteria yesterday during 2^nd grade’s lunch period, I was almost dead from the lacerations caused by loud, shrill, utterly intolerable noises. It was not unlike being trapped in a small, closed barn with howler monkeys. And I glanced over at Ms. Sallie on several occasions (meaning that she could not have been faking it) and she was unruffled. Completely calm and patient with these savages.

One public caning in that cafeteria would lower the noise level.

As I’ve been back and forth between home and school this week, I’ve experienced a dichotomy of activities and attitudes. The boys are out of school and have been since June 1. And since that time, they haven’t done enough activity to skew the results of a blood pressure machine mid-take. I’m surprised there aren’t bedsores by now. The girls, however, have been moving at breakneck speed toward the end, trying to stay one step ahead of their non-snack-bearing mother, which isn’t difficult. I came into my bathroom tonight and the oldest had showered. I mean, that’s good. I promote showers. But his towel, shorts, and underwear were in a heap. A wet, smelly heap. In MY bathroom. Keep your wet, smelly heaps to yourself. I looked down at that, thought about the bedsores, and decided a housework boot camp might be in order soon. I pictured how that would go and I smiled big and goofy. I think it’s going to go terribly. But I’m still gonna do it. It’ll be a fun new way to fail. 

Because sometimes all your failure needs is a fresh idea.

Summer starts today. Boot camp is coming. Life is good. 

#summersavvysnapps

This morning, I walked my daughters into the courtyard of their school and dropped them there. As I was turning to go, my younger daughter came running back to me for a hug and then ran off. Just when I thought I was about to walk away again, my youngest came running back again.

“Another hug?” I asked.

“No,” she answered. “I just found a Jolly Rancher on the ground and I wanted to ask you if I should keep it.”

“You should not,” I answered.

“That’s what I thought,” she laughed and then ran off.

Sometimes I feel like I’m trapped in a Junie B. Jones book.

Probably right about now, all 13 people that read this post are thinking, “It’s June 9, your kids are still in school??!” To that I would say, YES. WE ARE. And we are IN PAIN. It’s June 9 and we are STILL IN SCHOOL! Still forgetting to sign planners. Still forgetting to make the online payment so they don’t have $-.20 in their lunch account and get nasty letters home from the cafeteria staff. Still forgetting to send in snack for the entire class. Yesterday was “Bring a snack day” in Jenna’s class. So, like every good mother who wants her child to have a snack in class, I prepared her a baggie of pretzels and a mini pack of Pringles. I mean, let’s be real here. She took TWO SNACKS. I had nailed it. Until I walked into her class to ask a random, unrelated-to-snacks question and saw all the BIG snacks on the front table. Cupcakes, oreos, sugar cookies. Hmm. Wonder what all of that is. I walked out of there and talked to another mom, only to discover that “Bring a snack” meant BIG SNACK TO SHARE.

Brother. It wasn’t snack day. This was a party.

To be fair to me, the mom who gave me the info had forgotten also. She had the knowledge, but no snack. So I got in my car and drove immediately to Winn Dixie. I bought snacks for me and for the other mom. 2 boxes of Caprisuns, 2 packages of mini chocolate cupcakes, and 2 packages of yummy frosted sugar cookies. $21 later, I walked back out of Winn Dixie with everything but my dignity. From that parking lot, I went straight to school and walked back into Jenna’s classroom. I snuck in while they were watching some type of presentation and walked over to the snacks table with my stuff. All of the other prepared-mom-snacks-to-share were arranged on the table. Among them was my daughter’s baggie of pretzels and tiny little package of Pringles.

That was my crowning moment. That was it. Wish I’d taken a picture of my initial contribution. But hey, I stuck my $21 worth of party stash on the table and walked out of there a proud woman. Then I texted my friend to tell her how awesome we were…how GREAT our snacks were. And how we’d nailed it for ONE MORE DAY.

Backwards Moms Unite.

ONE.

MORE.

DAY.