My kids went back to school this week. In a lot of ways, this is a fantastic thing. Summer is fun, but we were starting to suffer from a bit of overexposure to each other. Now MiniB is in first grade, seeing old friends from kindergarten, meeting the new kids in her class and learning the ins and outs of grade one. The boys are sophomores and happily complaining about things like PE and trying to get from one end of the building to the other between classes. I have been doing a lot of nothing and enjoying the fact that, between the hours of 7 and 3, there is no one in the house asking me what we have to eat.
As much as I enjoy the return of quiet days, I also feel a bit out of sorts. August and September are typically restless months for me because I spent so many years in school myself that, now that I don’t have to go any more, it takes me a month or so to stop feeling like I’m forgetting to do something every day I don’t go to class. I also get wildly jealous of my kids’ new school supplies, especially MiniB’s. I want someone to require me to buy a new box of crayons every year, dang it.
It’s better now that I know what’s going on. The first few years it happened, I had no idea why I spent Septembers feeling all antsy and cranky. Now that I have a diagnosis, the most effective treatment for lackofbacktoschoolitis seems to be a tighter work-at-home schedule to provide structure and a new rainbow pack of Sharpie markers to cheer me up. That, and enjoying my kids’ excitement about the possibilities inherent in a new school year. I love having them come home and tell me about the interesting things that happened during the day Soon enough they will be back in the school groove and I’ll be lucky to get a grunt when I ask, “How was school today?”