- Attend a meeting tonight to plan Girls Camp, which takes place in three weeks and thus should, in theory, already be planned.
- Finish coordinating (calling and harassing) volunteers for Scout Day Camp, which takes place in two weeks and thus should, in theory, have volunteers already called and harassed.
- Make two dozen cupcakes for the middle school end-of-year party (Spring Fling!)
- Spend tomorrow morning at said middle school distributing “yearbooks”–i.e, graphic and cruel evidence of the most awkward years of a child’s life that will now, thanks to such distribution, haunt them forever.
- Take dog to groomers. This doesn’t really have anything to do with the last week of school. I’m just writing it down so I don’t forget. She stinks.
- Attend another meeting tomorrow night to continue planning Girls Camp and get everyone first-aid certified (read: wander around gym acting Busy And Stressed so someone else will get them first-aid certified.)
- Embark on massive Costco run to stockpile food for anticipated onslaught of kids at our pool.
- Take my two dozen cupcakes to middle school the following day for the Spring Fling! and supervise (read: chat with other moms while someone else supervises) the Cupcake Walk.
- Return home immediately after school to prepare food and drink for onslaught of kids at our pool.
- Barbeque burgers for said kids and attempt to light and tend fire pit for s’mores because–spoiler alert!–my husband is out of town again.
- Try not to be mad about my husband being out of town again.
- Try not to be nervous about barbequeing and fire-pitting by myself.
- Try not to burn the house down.
- Pick up dog from groomers. Cross fingers that they don’t notice I left her there an extra two days.
My sister says the last week of school is worse than Christmas. She may be right. Except Christmas is followed with gray slush and weight gain.
The last week of school is followed with this
So bring it on, you hellacious Last Week Of School. You don’t scare us.
The pool always wins in the end.