Tragically Un-Hip

The kids are on their way back to school in the morning. First off I'd like to say I was morally and physically opposed to writing a 'back-to-school' blog. Just because...I mean, c'mon. Isn't that what everyone is talking about? Couldn't I come up with something just this side of more interesting...like sex. I could talk about sex. I've had it, after all. More than once. Everyone likes talking about sex, even people that hate it. I think saying 'sex' in your blog probably ups the number of hits you get by about 200% or something like that.

Sex, sex, sex.

But unfortunately, I am a simple sheep bahh-ing along with everyone else, lining up at Staples for foolscap and Post-its and pencil cases. So here I am. Writing about sending the boys back to school.

Now, I've noticed a subtle shifting in Mom-speak lately. See, for years we all talked about sending the kids back to school the first day and potentially having a champagne breakfast to celebrate the minute they were out the door. Maybe do a little soft shoe. At the very least, chocolate and/or massages were in order.

But lately it's all about 'Oh, I hate sending my little cherubs back to school! We so enjoy our time together - all the freedom to just be together and bask in the glow of our communal love.' A few years ago I could have called 'Bullshit' on that one, but it's a trend that's picking up steam. Too many moms are saying it now. Which means I'm going to sound like a right bitch if I laugh or mock them or question their sincerity.

It's like U2. You know, the band? When I was in high school, everyone loved U2. In 1987. I started loving them in 1988 when everyone thought they were lame. The same went for acid washed jeans and Corey Hart and perms. I was always at least six months off the trend. The tide shifts and I'm standing on the beach with my water wings on, waiting for it to shift back when I know damn well it's never going to.

Well I'm sorry, but I'm sticking here. I'm glad the boys are going back to school - there, I said it. I'm glad that I get six uninterrupted hours a day to work or drink coffee or do whatever I want except maybe housework. Now before you start thinking I'm a rotten mother I'm glad for them too. Glad the two older boys are psyched for football try-outs and my two youngest are jazzed to see who they get for a teacher (I know who Jack is praying for but I don't want to jinx him just in case).

I'm glad we get our normal lives back. That I actually feel like cooking them a meal instead of McGyver-ing something for them out of soup, Lipton's Sidekicks and ground beef (I say again - I swear I'm a good mom). I'm looking forward to making them a giant breakfast in the morning, to baking cookies for them after school. To roasting the good chicken stuffed with lemons and garlic for our dinner.

And I'm glad they won't be home. Because...I just am. C'mon admit it.You're glad they're going back, aren't you?

Let's all have a champagne breakfast tomorrow and let the good moms cry their crocodile tears and listen to U2. I hear they're cool again.