Wearing only my pajamas and slippers, I ran at full speed down the street, my breasts swinging like two warring balls of tether. I turned around and yelled “Run faster!” and my daughter openly cried beside me.
This is not a scene from an apocalyptic nightmare. This is only the second week of school.
Currently, the bus was a full seven minutes early, which was why we were running half-naked down the street. I caught the bus driver’s gaze in the rearview mirror as he drove away, but he didn’t even recognize us as he sped off. Bah bahI said to myself in my heart.
We went back inside frustrated. Literally, my living room looked like it had been dropped by the CIA. At the door, I tripped over my oldest daughter’s three-ring binder, which she had forgotten at home and which would have written on her if I didn’t give it to her. Bah bahI said to myself again in my mind, and also said it out loud.
I now have to drive my young children to school and leave this notebook in middle school. Best case scenario, I’ll be 40 minutes late for work and I’m already behind.
A week ago, we were at the same door, taking photos of the first day of school. Everyone was smiling and my kids smelled like freshly ground soap and mint. Their hair is smooth and braided. Their white back-to-school sneakers are dazzlingly new. The backpacks on their shoulders were almost empty.
Now it all seems like a distant dream.
If the first week of school is about new beginnings, new friends, exciting challenges, and unused pink erasers, then the second week of school is all about the cold, hard days Reality. When you realize that after the fun first week, you’re going to see homework, math tests, and boredom. When you have to fill out 800 school forms, on four different portals and six different apps, asking for information that only your pediatrician and God knows. When you have to ask yourself how you did last year: morning rush, exercise rush, after school rush, bedtime rush.
Week two is when the wheels come off. The first week, you made Japanese bento lunches for the kids using cookie cutters and fresh ingredients. The next week, you hand your kids a bag of pizza-flavored Pringles and a protein bar you found at the bottom of your purse and wish them good luck.
So much has changed. Too fast. For you and the children. Everyone is completely, utterly exhausted. Respiratory viruses, lice, and wild-card stomach bugs have spread like wolves through classrooms. The new bus driver, an obvious result of the city’s bus driver shortage, was either 10 minutes late or 10 minutes early, and he also looked tired.
After a summer spent at home, socializing all day every day can also be mentally draining. Feelings are huge It’s the second week of school, which sucks because there’s three times as much to do as usual, and where are your damn shoes? Did you lose your new shoes?
But I’m not here just to complain. I have a greater message for you and I hope it is true. It’s okay to have a bad second week of school. It is normal for the wheels to fall off. It’s okay if your neighbor sees you running without a bra, it’s bound to happen sooner or later and you know it. You have a lot to deal with, and so do all the other parents and kids (and teachers, staff, and administrators). Everyone else is screwed up, just like you, if not more. Other people’s children also suddenly cry for no reason and throw tantrums for no reason, and I guarantee I’ve seen this happen in a few different departments at Target. Change is really hard. While it’s exciting at first, it’s always followed by a tough, rough period of adjusting to the new normal. But don’t worry. By Halloween (or, okay, maybe by Thanksgiving), you’ll have more or less mastered every aspect of this routine. Maybe bus drivers do the same.
Sarah Aswell is a senior editor at Scary Moms and leads the trends team as well as the Scary Moms Book Club. She also regularly contributes humor, articles, and original interviews to the site.
