I Already Screwed-Up The Sixth Grade

I already screwed up sixth grade and we’ve only had orientation.

It wasn’t quite as bad of a mess-up as the time I chicken danced my way into the slow cooker after a school performance that my kid wasn’t in.  No, that was worse, but probably only because I made my husband sit through two-thirds of the program, all the while looking for our little girl who happened to be in the wrong grade.

I was so absolutely certain orientation began at 6:30 p.m.  I even agreed to bring along another kid who didn’t have anyone to take him.

When five o’clock rolled around, I kicked everyone out of the house, except for my children, reheated leftovers for dinner, and thought I had it all together.

We were starting this year off right, by golly.

During dinner, my daughter decided to change her clothes for orientation, because she’s female and that’s what we do.  Then she thought she’d get a quick shower first, so she’ll not only look good, but she’ll smell good too.

I am a mom on board with hygiene, so I gave her my blessing and cleaned up the dinner dishes.

That’s when I glanced over at the calendar.

The prescription in my glasses seems to be getting weaker by the day, so I walked up and put my face close to the 28th.

It said 6:00.

No, that can’t be right.  I thought.  I could see there was a 3 inside the zero.  Did it start out as a 3 and turn into 0 or the other way around?

Franctically I began digging through my pile of papers.

Do you have a pile?  Because if you do not, please come to my kitchen ASAP and tell me what to do with all this stuff.

Sure enough, I found the paper and it said 6:00 p.m.

It was 5:52.

That’s when I lost the mother-of-the-year award for the hundredth time this year.

My daughter went with soap in her hair.

The other kid went without dinner.

But, we went.

Things were coasting along smoothly enough.  I even remembered to turn my phone off half-way through the principal’s speech.  Sixth grade is a cinch, I thought.

Until the lockers.

For love of all that is sane and good and easy in this world, why a combination lock?  Why?

Twenty minutes later, she opened it herself.

There are no gaurantees when the first day of school rolls around.

And to the parent who bought all the brightly colored hanging beads for her kid’s locker, you’re killing me, the same as if you were sticking fifty-two fancy, magnetic, hot-pink pushpins into my right eye.

Please wonderful overachievers, let’s keep the bar set low, at least until the eigth grade.

If we make it that far.

How’s the school thing working out for you?

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Tricia Gillespie