Where were we, when last seen?

I don't know why I always am shocked by the beginning of school.  I attended school for 15 years.  I have seen 15 starts of school for my children. You'd think that I would know the drill.

Still, I find myself dumbfounded at the pace that is set. It starts with schedules and ends with money. 

First of all it's the schedules:  Bus schedules.  Class schedules.  Sports schedules.  Choir schedules.  Music lessons.  On and on. 
And it compounds - depending on how many marbles are rolling around in the can.  In our case, that would be five - less- two this year. 

I am always relieved when someone has the good sense to say - "Let's start (insert name of program) but not next month after everyone gets settled in school."   Yes, let's do that.  In fact, why don't we wait for another month after that?!

And then there is the money.  I think that at the beginning of September, all  parents should open up all their purses, and wallets, and raid all the spots where they have spare change - like the ashtray, and the secret containers on top of the fridge, and then take it to the school office and pour it down a big funnel, into the school coffers.  Maybe they themselves could jump into that funnel and get sucked into the collection vortex.  It might be easier.    

Every day, the children come home with another notice from the school stating "Your child is involved in _____.  We anticipate a great educational experience from this.  Therefore, you must send us money. LOTS OF IT."

There are no offers of post-dated cheques or any other arrangements that might be made.  Nope.  Just a due date. And usually the due date is yesterday because the child failed to take it out of the their backpack to give the parent some time to fortify their financial portfolio before emptying out their pockets. 

I usually make one or two, [or three hundred mistakes] when it comes to scheduling and sending in money.  One week, I brought my child to soccer practice a full hour early, only to bring them a full hour late the very next week.  Another time I got a panic phonecall from my husband, when I was busy enjoying social time with friends a full half hour away, wondering why I hadn't picked the child up.  Well, honey, that would be because I thought YOU were picking them up you were aware that I was doing something social with my friends. 

I have signed permission forms, and then forgotten to write the cheque.  This involves a mad dash to the school to give my right arm to the secretary so that the child can actually go on the all-important field trip to the draft horse exhibition. 

My only consolation is that there are some professional development days coming when I can ignore the demands of being a mom of school-aged children.  They can't come fast enough.