Clinica Sierra Vista WIC


No more day camp, no more 'too-oons, no more constant dirty roo-ooms; schools in for win-ter! Schools in for faa-all! That's the happy tune I've been whistling, since the most magical day on the parent calendar arrived…the first day of school. And, I think most parents are joining in my revelry. It's not that we don't love our children dearly and want to spend time with them. It's just that there's only so much Sponge Bob and sibling rivalry a person can take.

You see, we want to spend lazy days laughing and playing with our lovely, happy, precious offspring. But, that's just a dream. The reality is that we have to spend about three months dealing with zombie-like little beings who come to life only to fight with the other zombies over things like how hot it is – "It's not that hot outside; you're just stupid!" – or what's on the lunch menu – "If you like broccoli, you're just stupid!" And, don't even get me started on the fact that within 30 seconds of having cleaned a room when my kids are home the room looks like Ground Zero. It's hard enough to clean a room when someone's following you around telling knock-knock jokes and laughing at the bodily noises they and their siblings can produce at will, but then to have the room look even worse than it did before you cleaned it within seconds of having put away the last Lego? It's a wonder that I don't spend the entire summer in a drug-induced coma.

Now, I'm not saying I don't enjoy spending time with my children. We have some very sweet moments. But I emphasize MOMENTS. These moments are few and far between the sound of a bazillion Legos crashing to the floor; the tune, "Who lives in a pineapple under the sea" running through my head over and over; and arguments over who ate all the marshmallows out of the Lucky Charms box.

"So, why don't you just turn off the TV and stop buying Lucky Charms" you say? Because, the Lucky Charms and Sponge Bob are merely the spring-boards for the arguments. If my kids were reading Shakespeare and eating carrot sticks, they'd still come to blows. "Hey, who lost my place in MacBeth? You are sooo stupid!"; "Hey, who's the stupid-head who ate the last carrot stick?"

That's why the first day of school is such a magical day. It's the day my kids are separated into neutral corners, at least for seven hours. I don't have to keep coming up with ways to occupy their days with sophisticated, intellectual activities or scream, "don't make me come up there!" because I hear pounding and muffled yells through the ceiling. It's a day I can give them a kiss as I gently push through the school gates, high-tail it to the car, and peel out of the parking lot rocking to my '80s music.


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