Another May, More Madness

When I read through old blog posts to compile my book, I noticed many tributes to the madness of May. When your kids are in school, this month requires as much planning and dedication as December, with thank you notes and gift cards for teachers, coaches and carpool drivers, and planning for the ten weeks of child-packed adventure ahead. May 2018 heads up my list of crazy months, and this week, in particular, my calendar grimaces at me from the screen or page, a squinty face made from miniscule white spaces - the slender gaps between activities.

To kick everything off, Aden had her junior prom last Saturday, and introduced me and Rob to the joys of parenting a teenager out in a car after curfew. We went to bed with our cell phones in hand, startling awake each time she texted from a new location: dinner, ice cream, the prom itself, the after prom.  At 2:45am she texted that she was headed home - didn't want a ride, just wanted us to know. I prayed over and over to get her home safely, and must have fallen sound asleep before she came in, because at 4:45am I registered the time and the fact that I hadn't yet seen Aden, and leaped out of bed. Rob woke instantly, probably due to my snatching all the covers off him, and said "She's here, she's here!"  Though my gratitude was infinite, it was hard to go back to sleep after that adrenaline rush.

We were all a bit sleepy on Sunday, which boded well (not!) for baseball games and yardwork . . . and by the end of the day I was snapping at all and sundry from my post at the barbecue, lamenting having somehow purchased four pounds of chicken thighs that all needed roasting.

This week brings Daniel's art show and choir concert, Aden's first AP test, and William's band concert and league championship for swimming.  The last event requires the most planning: a freshman haircut, administered by the seniors and mandatory to wear through one day of school, a post-haircut shaving of the head, followed by a shaving of the whole body in the company of the team at some lucky parent's house. He will have to go to his band concert sporting egg-like baldness, then retire early to prepare for the 100 fly and 100 back the next day.

I can't feel sorry for myself because all of my friends are in the same boat (and paddling much more gracefully).  I told a good friend "It's lucky I can swim, because my boat is definitely sinking!"

But the new car is doing well and I am driving extremely carefully.  And we're looking forward to seeing old friends and family on our Boston trip, and coming back to a hopefully slower-paced summer.