The end of the school year is upon us folks. We may feel like throwing in the towel, but we have to make it.  I am the worst end of the year mom ever…and here’s why:

1. I can’t stand another night of trying to get my kids to read for 30 minutes.   I read every day…but not actual books, and the same goes for my kids.  They read things all the time, like my texts to my husband about getting pizza instead of leftover meatloaf, or they read the back of their Pokemon cards, and then tell me all about the types of damage that each card can …blah, blah, blah.

2. Common core math. I just want to add 15 and 79 the good old fashioned way, but my kids have to sing rhyming songs in their head, and then make groups of a hundred, and tens, and ones….omg who came up with this crap? It takes up my entire evening!

3. Sports. Baseball, soccer, etc. all happening every night from April til July. There is no time to be doing anything other than sitting at a random field until 8 pm, trying to think of the reasons for not putting wine in your travel mug.  

4. Bed time is hard. Putting kids to bed is not for sissies. Putting kids to bed when it is still light out, and the a-hole neighbor kids are still riding their bikes around is super duper freaking hard!  Don’t even get me started on waking them up every morning. At our house, it involves begging, crying, bribing, and occasional screaming.  I’m so over it.

5. Standardized testing. Why do they do this crap at the end of the year?  We are all grasping at straws people…STRAWS! My kids could have totally brought their A game in October, but now…I will be lucky if they are not held back a year based on their test scores alone.  

6. All the events.  Field trips, 5th grade graduation, field day, luncheons, etc.  I can’t go to it all, and my kids get pissed.  Mommy has a job,  and I can’t take two weeks off to live at the school. #sorrynotsorry.

7. Teacher appreciation gifts.   Oh Pinterest, I don’t have the energy to make a melted  crayon sign of the teacher’s name.    I can barely remember their names at this point.  I hope they are cool with a Starbucks gift card, even though I would really love to give them a bottle of wine and a hug for putting up with my kids and their crazy friends all year.

Am I the only one hanging by a thread right now?  Are there any other backpacks full of unsigned notes, and moldy lunch containers?   I just can’t even anymore.  The finish line is in sight, and I’m dragging my kids across it kicking and screaming.

About the author: Meg Jones is a mom of three kids. She spends her time freelance writing, and going on random field trips. She lives in beautiful west Michigan.


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