Surviving the Back-to-School Madness

(Written by a 51-year old as if he were eleven)

There I was, two weeks ago, wasting the day away playing video games with friends, hanging at the pool, sleeping in and generally not having a care in the world.  Then it happened…school happened, and all heck (or, as dad says, “hell”) broke loose.  My summer, care-free world was suddenly turned upside down.  I was expected to follow a new, bizarre schedule that forced me to get up at 7:15, get myself ready for school (since, as mom says, “I’m now in 6^th grade and it’s time I started taking care of myself”), keep track of all my assignments, go to trumpet practice, get ready for baseball practice, take care of our lazy cats, AND still find time to play video games.  I’ll tell ya, it ain’t easy being eleven.

And to make things even tougher, since I’m “growing like a weed,” none of last year’s “school” clothes fit me this year…duh!  So, my parents drug me to the store, on a school night, no less, to shop for clothes which is big time BOOOOORING!!!  What the heck happened to shopping online?  Then, with all of my and my brother’s activities after school…oh yeah, my parents claim to be busy as well, but, come on, dad stays home and plays on the computer all day.  He claims he’s writing, but I mean really, who would read the drivel he writes?  Anyway, we’re all running around like chickens sans (French for “without.”  I just learned that) heads in the evening stuffing food down our faces and trying to find all the things we need for wherever it is we’re going.

Sidebar: you know what would help around dinner time?  Healthy and great-tasting meals delivered to our house that could be kept in the freezer and then re-heated in minutes.  That would be much better than scarfing a burger and fries in the back of the family truckster on the way to some practice or game.  Wait, dad has talked about writing for just such a company…one that creates just such meals and ships them right to your door.  What’s he call it again?  FantasyKitchen.com?…no.  MiracleKitchen.com?…no.  MagicKitchen.com?…That’s it!  Why not use MagicKitchen.com to ease the back-to-school madness?  I’m a frickin’ (dad would use another word) unappreciated genius!

Other things the folks could do to help me out, cuz Lord knows I need it, would be to:

1. Get all the things I need for the day ready the NIGHT BEFORE. They could get my backpack ready, put my trumpet by the door, lay my clothes out, and have anything else I need for the day ready to go.  Oh, wait, I’m guessing they’ll tell me to have all that stuff ready myself…crap.
2. Car pool! Instead of taking and picking me up from every practice, lesson and game why not use the neighbors to help out and make, like, a neighborhood uber?
3. Place all of my upcoming events on a family calendar and force me to look ahead a day so I know what’s coming up. Man, I hate responsibility!
4. Try to create some semblance (that’s a “dad” word) of a routine so I know when to do homework, when to practice trumpet, and when I can kick serious butt on the x-box. Maybe even create a check list like, mornings: get up, get dressed, make bed (UGH!), feed cats, eat breakfast, play Street Fighter IX (sorry, that’s mine), head out for the bus.
5. Yeah, I know bag lunches can be healthier than school lunches, but simply buying lunch at school means one less thing my poor, dear old mother has to deal with.
6. Allow me to start to take responsibility for my own life and don’t freak the F out when I make a mistake, like leaving my trumpet at school when I have lessons later that day. I can’t believe I just wrote that, but at some point, I’ve got to become an autonomous being (another, what I like to call, “dadism”).  Simply set expectations for me and create rewards and consequences for when I succeed and/or fail.  Believe me, I’m going to do plenty of both!

Back to school can be as frustrating for me as it can be for my parents, but helping me transition from my lay-about summer routine to my hectic school routine will make life easier for the whole family, don’t cha think?