It’s the last week of summer here.
Some of our kids have left for college.
The ones still here need new shoes, backpacks, school supplies. I feel certain no one has completed their summer reading assignments. I sort of lost track of that.
My business is growing. It needs my attention. Today.
My husband works from home. They just won a new contract. He’s working to get all the new systems in place.
My friends’ lives are changing. Some have moved away.
The end of summer means transition time again.
To me, because I’m a school nerd, I’ve always felt like THIS was the season that should be called the New Year. I love the smell of freshly sharpened pencils. Could there be anything more exciting than showing up for the first day of classes? (My sons don’t share this trait, by the way.)
These few weeks between summer and fall are a LOT of extra work. And that part isn’t so fun. But we don’t have to make it so hard on ourselves. We don’t have to manufacture activities that don’t absolutely need to be done.
Why, for example, do we have to have a “banquet” at the end of everything the kids do? Who thought of this crap? (You know it was a woman. Men don’t hurt themselves this way.)
You can’t just have the banquet, though. You have to have awards, and coach’s gifts. You have to have a cake. It can’t be just any old cake with gross sugar roses, though.
You have to order a custom cake with a team picture painted in special edible ink that no one will eat.
But you can’t just have the team picture on the cake with the special photo icing.
You have to email all the other parents (read “mothers”) and ask them for the BEST picture of the team to put on the special photo icing on the cake that no one is going to eat.
Then, when you get to the banquet, you have to make sure you have gluten-free, sugar-free, and chocolate-free options for all the special delicate people who can’t make it through ninety minutes without their special stuff there. Lord knows, you can’t have one banquet without at least 15 special requests from the 10 people who are going to show up.
And then, you have to take pictures of the banquet. And prepare that slide show of the season. You have to make sure that every kid is in the slide show an equal number of times. And, while you’re doing that, you might as well add the team music and clever captions to the production.
When you get to the gluten-free, sugar-free, chocolate-free, “green” restaurant with the free-range no antibiotics fed pepperoni pizza option (or maybe even tofu-roni), you’re going to need a special area so that you can show the film of memories and have the speeches. Make sure you have filtered water, because tap water won’t work either.
After the gluten-free, sugar-free, chocolate-free free-range anti-antibiotic or tofu free-range pizza topping party with the filtered water, drag your exhausted butt and all your slideshow equipment back home. On the way, discuss with your ungrateful kid what’s next. Maybe even stop on the way home at the office supply store because she wants those new sparkly gel pens, and you want her to blend in with all the other kids.
Whatever happened to “enough?”
If you want to make your transitions smoother, stop adding in extra stuff.
For once, see what it feels like to underachieve.
Pass it on.
P.S. Now it’s your turn. In the comments below, tell us this — what one EXTRA thing are you giving up?
photo: flickr, libookperson