Welcome back, self.
Thanks, self! Glad to be here!
Today is the final day. The Finish. The last page. The school year is ending.
This comes with much mixed feelings, as I LOVE me some public schooling. I also LOVE the personal time that is given to me each and every school day. But let’s be real, folks: we parents are tired. Tired of the early wake ups, tired of the packing of school lunches, tired of the tracking emails/notifications/carrier pigeon/smoke signal/telepathy of information coming from teachers and offices. Tired of tying shoes. Thank goodness homework was over a few weeks ago, ’cause I was ready to go all the way around the bend on that one…
This now means my children will be home with me. All. Day. Long.
I’ve been gathering up ideas for keeping my Things 1 and 2 occupied during these summer days, and yesterdays stroke of brilliance was thus: They should keep writing journals! Fabulous! They’ll practice their writing skills! Incredible! They’ll document their summer! Bonus! They can draw pictures! Amazing! Pats on the back all around.
Then comes the little voice.
“You should keep a journal, too.”
Let me introduce you to my little voice. She doesn’t have a name, though she sounds a lot like me. Though I often suspect that’s because she’s in my head. (NO, I am not crazy. Not any more than you, anyhow.) She doesn’t talk a lot, but when she does, it’s kind of a stinger. And though she frequently, regrettably, consistently ticks me off, she’s often right.
Earlier this year (December-ish) I came to the realization that I’m a writer-type. Slash-poet. Parentheses-lover-of-words. Not that I’ve done huge amounts with that knowledge, I’m a MOM for goodness-sake! But, the realization remains, thus my chirpy little inner voice.
So, paired with that global realization of (say it with me) I spend too much time on Facebook (there, see, we all feel better. Kind of like an AA meeting) my current thought is thus:
Ditch Facebook for the summer and write a blog post a day.
Go ahead, gasp and freak out. I’m right there with you.
In mildly exhorbitant disbelief,