The school start date is upon us. The clock is ticking. My heart rate went up a notch at the mere thought of it. Seriously. Its the most stressful thing ever. On the one hand, I am happy that she will be out of our hair and involved in 'doing something useful' with her time. On the other hand, I am afraid of the whole process of schools, mornings, lunch dabbas, new class teacher, etc.
Usually, I LOVE LOVE LOVE everything associated with the end of the summer. I love the smell of new books. I love wrapping them. I love reading them (yes, yes, even if they are of the child, and not mine. Mine, I used to start with the Math. She, she starts with the English. I read the Sanskrit one this year, at least, I tried to). I love new uniforms and stationary and bags and lunch dabbas and so forth.
But not this year.
I haven't wrapped the books yet. (No, the father is not going to contribute to this one, its not gender discrimination or anything, it just works better this way, believe me). I haven't bought a new bag. I have a bag, somewhere, I haven't found it yet. I haven't bought a lunch bag either. No new dabbas. Or water bottles (those are the worst, I swear. Smelly things). No juice bottle. Or snack box. I did get a few pencils, but my heart was not in it.
I don't know any mommies in the new section. Heck, I don't even know the new class teacher's name. I am having a hard time keeping in mind the new timings of the school. Its a full half hour earlier. My mind is not able to process what that implies in terms of leaving for school. Y'know. Considering traffic patterns.
Thanks to the metro activity, I am not even 100% sure I know the correct way to get to school. We went on Saturday to get the books but I was not paying much attention, I guess. I surely don't know how to get back, even if I manage to find my way over to the school. One ways everywhere, you see.
The uniform doesn't fit. Its tight. I have to bring it back to the tailor to get it altered. I don't even know when I will do that. The socks are all last year's and nasty. I have to clorox them (seriously). The white uniform skirt is loose. I can do some repairs with buttons etc. but it might be best to take it to the tailor again. We didn't even buy her new shoes. "Those must fit for sure" the husband insists. He is often wrong about these things.
What is wrong with me?