Stress enough for all in back-to-school routine
Updated: August 22, 2012 2:09PM
register my son at school.
As we approach the brick entrance, he mutters, “Man, I hope I don’t run into anyone I know.”
Seconding that motion, Kee-moe-sah-bee. I’m hefting around an extra 10 pounds since May.
I’m out of my fat jeans, into the Land of Elastic Waists.
That’s all I need, slim, spray-tanned PTA moms to judge me.
I tug on my jean jacket thinking, yeah, like that’s going to cover that midnight brownie binge.
“Oh-oh,” he grumbles.
We pass another eighth-grader, someone who used to be a buddy. No hellos, no smiles, just squinting and two stone faces worthy of a Clint Eastwood Western.
I look for spurs and ponchos.
Ah. Junior high. Whoever is your best friend in home room becomes a statistic by Social Studies.
Several friends and teachers remark on my son’s height, which makes him cringe.
“Whew, he’s gotten tall.”
The gym-uniform peddler grabs a T-shirt and navy shorts from the display table.
“Looks like he’ll take a large.”
Her eyebrows lift at me, the way the Nordstrom clerk looked at me yesterday when I insisted I was a lower size.
We return home.
My son joins the oldest, in the den.
Upstairs, I return to my work, when I notice the TV downstairs is cranked up to bleeding-eardrum decibels.
It’s that August phenomenon again.
It happens every second or third week before school resumes.
My kids yell like they are the lost tribe of Pangaea.
I hear more slaps and roughhousing, and lose my voice, threatening to call their father.
We weary parents call this the “Last Blast of Freedom,” this snippet of time before school has them sitting at desks and staring at chalkboards.
Downstairs a male narrator discusses the “Top Ten Fighting Ships” at a deafening volume. Not only will I know about the USS Nimitz, but the neighbors on either side of our house will learn about its long-range firepower, as well.
“Turn that down!” I shout. “I’m trying to concentrate here!”
Yes, they are savoring their final days before school, their Last Blast of Freedom. Likewise, I am dreading something school-related, too.
Shopping for supplies.