I have very strongly held views and opinions. I’m sure that most people have very strongly held views and opinions. However, I very often try to keep these things to myself because I have found that many of the people whom I love and adore do not always agree with me. And yet, I still manage to continue to love and adore them (even if they are clearly misguided).
However, there are some issues on which one must not keep quiet. It is imperative that we speak out and make our voices heard when something is just plain wrong. In today’s climate, we cannot shirk our responsibility to be on the right side of history. Some things are just too important. Which is why I feel the need to stand up and shout, “For the love of God, stop sending me Back-to-School offers before the fourth of freaking July. Just. Stop.”
I was innocently looking through a circular, just days before our nation’s birthday, excited at the prospect of beautiful weather, processed foods, and a mild sunburn, when I was rudely assaulted by a large and overwhelmingly full-page ad for backpacks and school uniforms. Seriously? I just wanted a coupon for some squishy potato hot dog buns so I could buy my teenagers’ love and devotion and frankly, felt like it was a personal attack.
I know that some parents loathe summer break. I understand there are some who think that having their kids home for so many hours each day — wandering aimlessly and/or harassing them for food, transportation, money, attention, or permission to beat a sibling — is burdensome. I am aware that some parents do not enjoy the break in routine or the excessive amount of sunlight that keeps their little bundles of joy in a near-manic state, at all times.
I, however, wait for summer break with the same expectancy the manic child feels when they hear the far-off jingle of an approaching ice cream truck. The excitement builds as it comes closer. Soon you are overwrought with the promise of impending joy and can think of nothing else. But just like the snow cone that, after four licks, is devoid of sugary joy and leaves you with only a rapidly melting ball of ice in a weak, waxy shell, summer vacation can disappoint. And yet, every time, I chase the truck, hoping for the dream to become a reality. Because the misery doesn’t usually set in until all avenues of fun and mirth have been exhausted, which is usually late July. And that is why the late June back-to-school nonsense was all the more insulting.
I think we were less than 10 days out of school when the first smiling, uniform-clad tot assaulted my senses. I was just starting to deal with the trauma I had suffered from 10 months of last-minute adrenaline rushes caused by a child who always almost missed the bus. I was finally able to not cry when my alarm went off each morning at an ungodly hour. And I had only recently rejoiced after having cleaned out and packed away the now-empty lunch boxes.
Listen, I’m a planner. I get needing to carefully prepare for all possible futures. On top of that, I love new school supplies — like, really love them. I have a box hidden under my computer desk, filled with fresh notebooks and several unopened boxes of pens (yes, I know that’s weird but let he/she who has not inhaled deeply at the scent of pencil shavings cast the first stone). The point is, if there is anyone out there who gets excited for back to school, it’s this girl. But don’t mess with my summer.
There are only a few precious weeks where I do not have to help a child decide between black Converse and aquamarine Converse, where the wrong answer means junior high life or death. I have but two short months to not obsessively check the parent portal, praying it looks different than it did just 11 hours prior. There are only so many hours before I will once again be signing triplicate forms and navigating homework that I have long since lost the ability to understand and/or be helpful with, in any way.
I know that stores have to anticipate what their customers want many months in advance. I am a diligent shopper who, based on my credit card statements, singlehandedly pays the middle-class salary of at least one Costco employee. I appreciate the vast choices made available to us. But when it’s July 6 and I have to dig through the dregs of bathing suits, hoping to find one in the right size that is also not hideously ugly, before they pull them off the shelves (you can tell because the placard has a little asterisk in the corner — you’re welcome) to replace them with fleece jackets, I’ve had enough.
I’ve put up with Christmas tree displays in August, merely shaking my head in disappointment, and possibly mumbling one or two comments about the demise of our society as a whole. I’ve tolerated Valentine’s in November, because what says, “I love you,” more than two and a half-month-old chocolate? I’ve even endured Halloween costumes in August (by the way – those kids are going to grow about two sizes between summer and fall, so unless you’re planning on starving them, you should wait to buy that costume), but stop trying to rob me of my freaking vacation.
Don’t worry, in six weeks I’ll be hoarding stainless steel water bottles like a doomsday prepper. But for now, just give me a coupon for fancy lump wood charcoal and all the tacky seashell-covered crap you’ve got. Then let me have this one.
If like me, you’re slightly insane and insist on taking your beach-hating children on a wifi-less beach vacation every year, I suggest coming up with a lot of distractions. Stay away from board games (trust me) and choose activities that take the focus off of yourself and the fact that you’re the one who brought them here. I always find one or two cool shells/rocks and challenge them to do better. It’s like a scavenger hunt for the resentful and disgruntled. When you’re done collecting but feel that they might still like you a little, task them with making a craft out of the newly found beach debris. I don’t do Pinterest because it just makes me feel bad as a person, but Homedit.com has some ideas. I didn’t read them because I don’t craft, but the pictures were cute. Good luck!
