I can’t take it anymore. I’m tired of putting up with your abuse. I have to say it. I despise you.
You think you’re so special, with your perky positivity and cute little ideas. You just don’t get it, do you? You do not live in the reality that most of the rest of us face. You cannot possibly understand what my life is like. Let me give you a little peek.
You’re the one with the big ideas. You’ve got a clear table full of nothing but pathetic little color-coded post-it notes, gel pens, new planners and plans. Lots of plans.
Sure, why not. Make those plans. Print off all those PDF’s and put them in binders. Pin all the science project ideas. Label storage bins and sort books by subject and time period. Easy for you. That’s the fun part. You aren’t the one who has to carry out all these plans!
You spend your days shopping for great sales on used books and sets of classic homeschool read-alouds. How cute. I bet you told all your friends on Facebook when you got that whole set of middle-grade novels for only $7 plus shipping. Well, good.for.you.
That set is now sitting on the shelf collecting dust. That means that not only do I have to dust it, but every time I dust it, I am reminded of how little I have accomplished this year. I hope it was worth your snotty little $7 investment to crush my soul.
You don’t have to herd children like a pack of turtles. You just sit and watch them from a distance as they splash in the pool. They come back in exhausted and by 8pm, they are sound asleep.
Do you realize what it’s like for me? First, the sun has practically forgotten that we exist. And the children have practically forgotten that outside exists. It’s dark before I can finish getting lunch put away. The children have tons of pent up energy but are apparently too exhausted to fold socks.
You just don’t get it. So stop acting like you can fix my life with new curriculum and a chore chart.
I’m sorry. I overreacted. I know you’ll understand. I hadn’t yet had my coffee when I penned my last note. I forgot; you have been here before. You know do what it’s like to be me, don’t you?
Sometimes I get to thinking that just because you aren’t where I am right now, you don’t remember what it’s like to be here. I forgot to be thankful for who you are and what you do well.
Sure, the pressures you experience aren’t the same. But hey, we make a great team, don’t we?
I mean, if it wasn’t for your fresh enthusiasm and planning bug, we wouldn’t have all these great resources on hand, would we? We would be making a lot more snap decisions at the last minute and doing a lot more flying by the seat of our pants.
Sometimes I just don’t have the brain cells left to make a great new plan. So it’s really a relief to know that when all else fails, I can fall back on the outline you sketched for us back then. It might not be ideal for today, but it’s better than scrapping homeschool for the day because I don’t know where to start!
And, if it weren’t for me, you’d forget to come back to earth. You’d forget that we are only human, that our kids are only human and that, while plans are great, it’s important to plan for the unexpected. You’d forget that a plan is made to serve us, not the other way around.
I’ve helped us to remember that there will be times when we have no idea what we were thinking when we got into this whole homeschool gig. I’ve also reminded us that we’re strong. We can get through tough stuff. We can love and give, even when we don’t have a lot of energy left to draw from.
I know that last note was kinda rough. But maybe don’t toss it. Maybe just put it in the back of your homeschool planning folder and pull it out next year when you get the planning bug? Keep on being you. Keep on doing all that you do so well for us. But just keep in mind that I’m a part of this team, too. We are best when we work together!