Expectation
Three weeks before the first day of school, you walk into the local super center with your brood in tow. Your children walk hand in hand from the parking lot to the store’s entry, giggling as they aid you in finding your school’s supply list.
“I found it!” your soon-to-be second grader squeals with delight, waving the single sheet provided from his elementary school. The whole crew rejoices at the 7-year-old’s discovery and off you go. The items are simple enough: number two pencils, a box of primary-hued crayons, a tub of hand sanitizer, some Kleenex.
“Let’s make a game of this!” you suggest. A simple scavenger hunt for erasers and a protractor is in place. The children thank you for your creative genius in making the required pursuit fun and engaging. The back-to-school aisles are a colorful cornucopia of beautiful graphics and prints. Each child effortlessly finds the necessary basics in the designs he finds most visually appealing. As you hit the checkout, each child thanks you most sincerely for the school supplies. You each grab a shopping bag and walk off into the sunset.
Reality
You intended to hit the stores in advance, but it’s hard to wrap your mind around buying school supplies when the heat index is over a hundred and your whole crew is still in summer siesta mode. The day before school starts, you finally rally your gaggle of kids into the minivan for back-to-school shopping. Finding a parking spot is like finding a needle in a haystack (since when did back-to-school shopping draw crowds like Black Friday?). Apparently, you weren’t the only parent to wait until the last minute. After five minutes in hot pursuit of a parking spot, your firstborn yells from the back seat that a sedan is pulling out two lanes away. You channel your inner Mario Andretti and floor it. No way are you waiting until another spot opens up. The skid marks left in Lane 10 will just remain a visual reminder for all who follow to start this venture earlier next year.
The school supply list requires no search. The manual hits you square in the face upon entering the double doors of the store (where is the Cliff Notes version of this thing?). Your preschooler loudly informs you—as well as the store greeter, hair stylists, optometrist, bank tellers and every cashier at the front of the store—that she has to use the restroom now or she won’t make it. No problem. A detour is just what you need to skim over the volume of required supplies. As you flip through the pages, you scratch your head. Crayola crayons in metallic and glitter? Exactly 108 ounces of Germ-X (why, even Costco’s mega-sized sanitizer offerings pale in comparison!). Exactly where does one find this behemoth antibacterial bottle?
It’s not hard to find the back-to-school aisles. Just scout out the area that looks like an F-5 tornado ran through it with parents mired in cart-to-cart gridlock. Moms and dads nervously clutch their supply lists while trying to keep a headcount of their children. Employees avoid eye contact in an attempt to restock shelves as quickly as possible, hoping to make it through their shift alive. The only folders left on the shelf showcase Dora the Explorer or My Little Pony. You deliberate whether to cover the characters with duct tape to give a manly flare and prevent your fifth-grade son from protesting or to trek to another store in hopes of better options. Never mind. You only can locate three-fourths of the supplies necessary, and extra trips will be required anyway.
To your credit, you complete your first foray without losing a child or too much of your sanity and stopping for only two additional bathroom breaks! Three more stores will yield the final items needed. You don’t know whether to take a celebratory victory nap or streak on blue face paint, channeling your inner William Wallace as you claim freedom from the craziness that is back-to-school shopping.
First Day of School
Expectation
You awake before your alarm goes off, fully rested and ready to take on the world. Instrumental interludes streaming from your Bluetooth speaker, along with the waft of frittatas from the kitchen, slowly wake children from their slumber. After a nourishing breakfast, new school outfits are donned and first-day-of-school portraits are casually taken on the front porch. Candid portraits showcase natural smiles because the children are, well, naturally happy (who wouldn’t be after being awakened by frittatas?). The protein-packed breakfast ensures energy for children to get themselves (and all their school supplies) in the car five minutes early.
Reality
Your alarm doesn’t go off as planned, but there’s no ringtone quite like the sound of screaming children to get you up. A late start means the adorable pancakes with chocolate chip faces that you pinned on Pinterest are clearly a no-go. The printer is low on ink, so instead of having the kids hold a cute first-day-of-school sheet you designed on the computer, you have them hold up their fingers to show what grade they’re now in. Eyes may be closed in half the shots you frenetically take with your smartphone, but there’s no time for re-do’s. You throw granola bars at the kids as they buckle up and you back out of the driveway. You’re five minutes late. But it’s still going to be a great school year!
Mom of three Lauren Greenlee has been known to throw granola bars at her kids while shuffling out the door in a hurry. She loves school supplies and argues the best line in movie history is when Joe Fox offers to buy Kathleen Kelly a bouquet of freshly sharpened pencils in You’ve Got Mail. She writes from her Olathe home.