The Countdown

The clock is ticking.

Not just until my birthday, but obviously we are in the final count down until D-day, the day all my teacher friends hate, and all my mom friends wait 3 months for: the first day of school.

I’ve been pretty excited myself, no surprise, until today. You know, OPEN, OPEN, OPEN.

Grandpa, Nana, are you reading? Have I told each of you how much we love you lately?

Our school shopping preparedness so far has been limited to 2 haircuts, $25 each, and ordering two pairs of shoes from Foot Locker, I got off cheap at $150 total.

Cha-ching, I can just hear my bank account vanishing by the day.

What has been my biggest expense so far?

The $300 in school shots we plunked down today due to a new Texas law for entering 7th graders.

We haven’t even made it to clothes shopping yet, not so much as a pair of socks or underwear, and all we have to show is a receipt for shoes that are on the way in the mail, and Jordan’s right arm and left butt cheek for the shots.

I did feel sorry for Jordan, getting three shots in one an all. Ouch.

That was until he came home from the clinic, me worried, him knowing to milk the moment.

I said, all nice mom and such, ‘Jordan, how do you feel, are you sore?’

His reply, typically Jordan sarcastic, ‘Yeah mom, it hurt terribly, I had to get a shot in my left testicle.’

I should have expected something like that.

(And the fact that he’s been using that word a lot lately has me worried. I think a room inspection is due any day now. Or not. I’m not sure I want to see what I would find.)

Tick tock. 14 days left until I hand my mouthy still 11 year old seventh grader over to a new set of teachers. Maybe I should send pre-apology letters now?

OPEN, OPEN, OPEN.

I wonder if we could camp out a day ahead, with our pool chairs and tents, and be the first ones inside the school, like when you wait for concert tickets or I-phones and other exciting items?

While the clock ticks, if anyone wants to start a back to school co-op, you know where to find me.

Cha-ching.