I’ve had enough of this school year. I’m ready for summer. I’m ready for the boys to be home. I’m ready for a sense of predictability and stability to rest on my household.
This is an odd feeling. Usually, by this time, I’m ready for summer because I get tired of trying to live on other peoples’ schedules: like the start of the school day and the somewhat predictable arrival of the buses. I get tired of the early mornings and the rush to get ready.
But, nope, this time it’s the fighting with the schools and the unexpected calls to come pick up my kids. Even though those are stopped, the anxiety of those calls lives on. It could start up again any time. It’s not like there was rhyme or reason to it.
I’m ready for it to be done. I’m ready for it to be summer.