Teachermama

Yesterday, H and J each had a friend over to play. At one point, H and V and H’s friend were doing a puppet show (with many scatalogical references) and J and her friend were out back painting the playhouse with mud.

I had two seconds of smug happiness: “See? Benign neglect DOES work…” before the panic hit me full-force.

Because right now? The kids don’t have to be anywhere early in the morning. I am not teaching four college classes. There are no homework logs to sign off on, no permission slips to frantically search for in the pile of school papers that takes over the kitchen counter from September to June, no desperate requests from PTSO members or children’s teachers for more glue sticks or more volunteers in the classroom/at the bake sale/whatever, no student papers to grade or emails to answer, no classes to prepare for.

And still, we’re out of bananas and juice and down to the last few inches of milk. We had Chinese food delivered last night, and I’m fully planning for us to live on the leftovers for another day. The laundry is still kicking my ass (those damn beach towels from all the swimming are the bane of my existence).

But then I remembered what will make that fall switch into our mama-at-work lives possible: public school, which is free and where my children–all three, for the first time ever–will be each day for six hours.

I have this same panic each summer, when I can’t imagine how I’ll fit full-time work into an already full life. It’ll happen. We’ll be fine. Cereal and scrambled eggs ARE fine for dinner. (And truly? J has eaten tortilla chips for dinner three of the last five nights. Cereal and eggs would be a huge improvement.)