Starting the School Year

So yes, I slacked off last week and didn’t write a damned word. There is no excuse even though it was a frantic week of gathering materials for the kids so they had everything they needed for school. I could be wrong, but I don’t remember having to have all that shit to get an education. Notebooks, pens, paper, maybe a kleenex travel packet, loose leaf paper, a calculator, protractor, and that’s probably it. Of course I wasn’t the one buying any of it so why would I remember, but damn. I know it was over $500 worth of stuff not to mention the school fees associated sending a kid to learn.  But, that’s what it’s like these days, I guess.

The main thing to establish now is the daily routine.

Get up early.

Make sure the kids are up in time to get dressed, eat, take a shower (if needed), gather any belonging they didn’t take care of the day before, and get on the bus.

Take the oldest to high school.

Go to work.

Then there are the afternoon rituals. Some of this responsibility is placed on the kids shoulders like home work. Some of it has to do with what they are into. The oldest has band practice on certain days, the middle child has dance on a certain day, the youngest has football practice on certain days. Thankfully most of the extra curricular activities take place after 5:30, except for band (some of the time). Then comes football season. Friday evenings and Saturdays will be occupied by games to support once child or another in their efforts to contribute to their school’s whatever.

I don’t want this to come off as though I’m bitching about it. I’m not. I’m glad they are busy. I’m glad they are attempting different things as they try to figure out what they are really into, and what type of person that makes them. Even though I look at my son and have the thought, “you and me are probably going to get into a fist fight some day.” Which is saying something because the last fight I was in a fight was in first or second grade. I’m sure that can change though, and he still has plenty of growing up to do. He’s 8, so even if he does try I think I can take him.

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