Tomorrow my baby, a five foot ten lanky kid who could pick me up and toss me around like a beach ball, goes back to school. He’s got the blues. Even though he’s a high school junior and been through the drill: summer reading, registration, textbook room pick-up, he’s still sulking in his room, surly as a bear coming out of hibernation.
Summer vacation is a lot like that. You can sleep late and no one will bug you about it. There’s no urgent need to be anywhere or do anything. You can be as lazy as you want. Then suddenly, you have to reprogram your entire being. Sit. Listen. Perform. I understand why he wants to bite someone’s head off.
Beverly Hills Unified School District is a lot like other public school districts, tinkering with the Bell Schedule recipe in a never-ending quest to get the dish just right. Like any experiment in the kitchen, you never know how it’s going to taste until you start chewing. The taste this time is bittersweet; our hard-working school board whittled down the summer in an effort to give the kids more time to prepare for exams and to finish finals before winter break. It makes good sense except if you’re a bear that could use just a few more days of hibernation time.
Pushing my cart through the market felt odd. Like I was too early to be plucking pita off the shelves and making small talk with the deli guy slicing the turkey. I still make my kid’s lunch. Often, he shares that lunch with one of his buddies so you can see I have some real responsibility here.
He lies and tells me I make the best lunches of any mom and he calls the city he lives in the ‘healthy food bubble.’ In a couple short years, he’ll be swapping the brown bag for the dorms and the college meal plan. Then I’ll have to change the name of the blog to LonelyMom.com or EmptyFridge.com. I’m getting a bit ahead of myself. I better focus on being organized for tomorrow morning so my son gets to school bright and early.
Oh yeah, that’s right. I’m not driving him this year. He’s got his own wheels.