When Back to school is no longer fun.

So the first couple weeks of school went surprisingly smooth. I was even starting to have fantasies that my children were maturing out of their childish behaviors. Then, today happened and all my fantasies were horribly crushed. Okay, that was a bit of an over-kill. It was more like today happened and I thought, "Okay, now those are the children I know."

I think by the second or third week of going back to school the excitement of it all has worn off and nothing is left for the little darlings but the harsh realities.

Summer is officially over.
I do have to do my homework.
My teacher isn't as sweet and mild as I had thought, especially when I am doing obnoxious things.
I'm already bored of all my new clothes (and)
"Hey, my mom doesn't clean my room now that I'm at school working sooo hard all day?!"

Whatever the reason, my three school-aged children are no longer the little angels that were jumping from their beds before the alarm even sounded, eager to get to the bus stop, and helping each other find socks or whatever. No, today I woke up to retro-children, the Ash, Brooke and Matthew I have come to know so well.

Brooke couldn't find anything to wear despite the closet of clean clothes, some of which haven't even lost their price tags yet.

"But I don't like those jeans or those shirts!" She wailed.

"Well, I guess that's because when we went school shopping, you were more interested in playing tag through the store rather than to settle down and pick out some bloody clothes." I spat through clenched teeth.

After wasting most of the morning, Brooke finally settled on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, ( never mind the rain). But the effort was too little too late, all three had missed the bus and Ashton was bawling about not getting star student for never being late or something ridiculous like that. But I stayed cool. I packed the baby up, handed out back-packs and herded everyone out to the car. Almost. We were halfway to the car when Matthew reminded me about his peanut butter and honey sandwich. Some how I have managed to raise a boy who insists on getting the majority of his nutrition via peanut butter, honey and chocolate milk.  Ashton bawled even louder as I headed back inside to whip up his lunch.

When we arrived at the elementary school, the "pull through and drop off lane" was packed with SUV's and mini-vans, undoubtedly other parents who are having the exact same crisis with their own children. I waited patiently for my turn in the drop off lane and almost breathed a deep sigh of relief as I slid the mini-van door open. Until....Matthew decided he needed a bottle of water.

"Sorry bud, I don't have one handy, but people are waiting in line behind us, so I need you to get out of the van now and go to class."

He adamantly refused. Reciting the phrase, " I want a water bottle", over and over like some kind of little robot.  So I just reached inside the van, grabbed hold of his waist and tugged him out. I didn't however, take into account the sheer size of the kids will or his strength. As I pulled him out, he grabbed on with all his might to the side of the van door and held on tight. I even heard a little snicker from the patrol woman standing near the entrance as she beheld the cartoon-like scene.

It wasn't a pretty morning, but at least everyone got to school. Matthew was a few minutes late to his class, and I'm ashamed to say that its because I gave up on the fight. After two or three minutes of embarrassment in the drop off lane, I stuffed him back in the van, drove to the store, bought him a bottled water and drove a smiling Matthew back to school.

Harrison and I then went home and took a long nap!