How to survive those brutal last few weeks of school: A mother’s guide

It’s the end of the school year and I’m beginning to feel the mental exhaustion that wipes away my will to live. Or at least my will to create one more costume, bake one more ethnic specialty or shop for one more piece of appropriate concert attire, since it seems I can’t jam these kids into the appropriate attire from last year.

I’ve been reading other blogs written by similarly distraught mothers and find myself nodding and laughing. And then laughing some more, until I start crying and wondering how we all became such horrible mothers. When I look at the June calendar, my vision starts to blur. The lyrics to “it’s the final countdown,” replete with guitar solo, rise up to a violent crescendo in my short-circuiting brain and I wonder, if I start drinking heavily now, can I just black out through the end of the month?

Next week, they have a play, a field trip and field day. We just lived through a talent show and school dance. The week after we have a Regents exam, spring concert, another field trip and I just found out that the night of my son’s graduation is the same night as my daughter’s dance recital. Also, we should probably schedule some time for my psychotic break.

The talent show, though full of talent, lasted for more than three hours. Three hours in a folding metal chair.

Three hours of overtired school children, loaded with adrenaline, but expected to sit still and quiet, after a full school day of sitting still and quiet. Except for when they were applauding and shouting encouragement to friends and classmates. Or, more accurately, screeching incoherently, eyes full of crazed exhaustion and reckless abandon.

Three hours of loud music and poor lighting. It was like every college bar, except without the booze. Though, there were certainly some of us who could have used a beer or four. I watched, with unspoken sympathy, as moms chased toddler-siblings, running in front of, and thereby pissing off, other moms who were trying to catch their child’s four months worth of practice, jammed into 90 seconds.

By the time we got home, I was incapable of baking for the youngest child’s heritage celebration the next morning and stumbled into bed, holding back tears as I pulled out the Irish Soda Bread recipe and set the alarm for 4 a.m.

Something happens to you when you find yourself staring at a mixing bowl, in a dark and quiet kitchen, before dawn. A little part of my soul curled up and died; shriveled in solidarity with the raisins that were gently mixed with the flour and baking soda, soured like the buttermilk that filled the well in the dry ingredients, hollow like the sound of the finished loaf.

I get it. These poor teachers spend eight months of every year prepping these equally poor kids for stupid tests and when the aforementioned tests have come and gone, like the drunk and pontificating uncle that ruins every holiday, teachers just want to have fun.

They want to remember why they became teachers in the first place. They want the kids to look forward to school, to be inventive and fun, to laugh and create, to learn with joy and gusto. And I totally love all that stuff. But I also totally wish it didn’t involve me. Because in June, I am not inventive and fun. I do not laugh and create. There is little joy and gusto. They took the midnight train to Georgia, where school ended like a week ago.

Take pity on the moms who have to choose between taking off work for the morning theater performance, field day or the fishing field trip. If one kid has a Regents exam on Wednesday morning, don’t schedule the other kid’s concert for Tuesday night. And for the love of God, don’t ask for home-baked goods. For any reason. Because I don’t have a prescription for Xanax.

A nice alternative is a relaxing tea. Chamomile, though not a flavor I enjoy even a little bit, is a miracle worker. It’s excellent for easing upset stomachs, as well as quieting nervous energy, the night before a performance, test or any other nausea-inducing event. It is a constant resident in my pantry and I recommend you make some space in yours, too. It’s equally unpleasant hot or cold, so pick one and commit.

By the way, chamomile grows wild all over our area. Grab an herb identification book and seek out the flowers. You can dry them and make your own tea. And sneak some into your kids glass. When they’re sleeping like my dog in front of the fire, you won’t be sorry.

Laurie Nigro, a mother of two, is passionate about her family, her community, and natural living. Laurie resides in downtown Riverhead and is co-founder of the River and Roots Community Garden on West Main Street.

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