Exhausted
Well, parents, apparently we survived another May.
The month of May presents itself to us parents as such a sweet month: May flowers after April showers and Mother’s Day and all things pleasing and wonderful. It then gradually sheds its facade to become one of the most brutal school-aged parenting months of the year.
We get to believe it’ll be blooming and calm for the infant and toddler years, but then the activities start to trickle in. Initially it’s not too bad — maybe just a preschool show or graduation to add to the May calendar.
I remember filing into the back lawn of the Montessori school to watch my 4-year-old children sing “Light a candle for peace, light a candle for love, light a candle that shines all the way around the world,” as I dabbed tears from my face. Life seems so simple then, as I look back. One extra May event.
I remember in those years, my good friend invited me to do something that required weekend activity — I think it was swim team. “Oh no,” I said, with all the self-righteousness I could muster. “We are going to save weekends for family time.” I remember her laughing hysterically in a “that’s so cute that you think that” kind of way.
(My water/drowning anxiety did eventually push me to sign my kids up for the swim team. I’m glad I did, even though it was a pain in the rear and a time-suck).
The first few years, I was always surprised as my to-do list grew in May. Subsequent years, I girded my loins for the deluge I knew would be coming. I could put the events on the calendar before I even got the email they were coming. Only a few extra events would surprise me and my introverted ways.
The commitments start slowly in elementary school, like the first individual raindrops I hear on my roof when a storm is coming. Or like speeding a treadmill up from 2.5 to 3.0 mph. A nice steady walk. Teacher appreciation. Kindergarten graduation. Field day. Strings concert.
As the kids get older, the raindrops come more rapidly. The treadmill speeds up to 4.0 and then 5.0 mph. The playoffs and end-of-season parties for every single team. Class parties. Sign-up geniuses. The Mother’s Day dance recital and the preceding nights of rehearsal. The lacrosse super-regional tournament that I was so proud of my son’s team for making but that occurred on a work weekend. In May.
I don’t have a graduate this year, but last year I did. Any transition or graduation year has the treadmill going at maximum speed, and uphill at that. Fifth grade. Eighth grade. High school. Parents are running so fast they’re huffing and puffing, sweat dripping off their faces.
I see the lines of emotion and pride — and exhaustion — on the faces of my friends with graduates this year. I had a nephew’s high school graduation last week. I looked at all those kids in their caps and gowns with awe, even though I only knew a few.
It is no small task to get these kids from the newborn stage to high school graduation. There was such pride in the family’s and teacher’s eyes. Such hope for the future. Such a sense that parenting has kicked us six ways to Sunday and yet we made it to this point — mostly intact.
Mid-May this year, I got the weekly email from our middle school principal. “Down to the last 16 days of school, and they are packed!” Then came a schedule of literally 15 events that these teachers had to prepare our kids for — guitar concerts, piano concerts, choir shows. Fifteen events in 16 days, and that didn’t even include the bouncy house fun day for each grade. God bless my kids’ teachers and the schools they attend.
This month, most every patient and parent I saw with my pediatrician hat on had the same face when I asked how they were. “Making it.” “Hanging in there, barely.” “Exhausted.” “Trying to get to June.” The May illnesses just hit harder, with so much else going on.
So on this day, as another parenting May is in the rear-view mirror, and as we slow down our treadmills just before we stumble and fly off the back of them, I’m here to say that we made it to another June.
Adios, May. I’m not sad to see you go. Don’t let the door hit you in the butt. We are exhausted and partied out. See you next year. I’ve got a 700-page novel to read and a warm bath to take while my kids are feral for the next few weeks.
(And if you want a reminder of how simple life used to be, listen to this sweet song. It takes me right back to preschool graduation). Light a Candle for Peace - YouTube
“Light a candle for peace. Light a candle for love. Light a candle that shines all the way around the world. Light a candle for me. Light a candle for you. That our wish for world peace will one day come true! Sing peace around the world. Sing peace around the world. Sing peace around the world. Sing peace around the world.”
The advice and opinions herein are by no means meant to be a substitute for professional medical advice. Please contact your personal physician, mental health provider or health care professional for medical advice. Opinions are my own.