Dear Teachers,

We are a wreck. Our freedom is coming to an end and though some of us pretend to be merry sprites, they are either splendid liars or work outside the home.

Go ahead, parents, deny my message, but I shan’t be silenced.

I am a wreck.

An absolute mess.

And to top it all off, I feel guilty for lamenting a summer with my children.

I mean, I like them, but they drive me bonkers and the combination of them is downright painful.

I am not cut out to be a stay at home mom, anymore.

Those days have ended for me.

The idea of homeschooling leaves me feeling like I may have a panic attack.

Why is the last week torture?

Why is summer so long?

Why do we go back so late?

Sum of all parts equals EXPOUNDED INSANITY.

I salute you.

The teachers who work their asses off all year.

The teachers who genuinely like my children.

The teachers who are salivating for freedom and cursing the lot of us.

And lastly, the teachers who shall say goodbye to my kids and hello to their own.

Three months.

Well, eleven weeks and three days to be exact.

Namaste.

P.S. You will likely roll your eyes at my dramatic soliloquy, but at least I’m honest. Those parents who are bleary eyed and wallowing in the blissfulness of an open calendar shall run the gauntlet soon enough and banish folks to the out of doors and drinking from the hose- all in the name of a childhood from the eighties.

We adore you and so, I will keep my children home on Friday.

Love,

Parents Everywhere