This Reminds Me

Non-profits and government are the sole bastions of Stone Age administration with whom I interact.  Any other organizations, vendors, etc. – you give them piece of information once, and they then sort, slice and dice it as needed.  Smart ones then tailor communications and offers to you, based on the information you provide.

Schools – which are part of government – are not among those “smart ones.”

The first few evenings of the school year, I count on spending at least one hour per child on nothing but administrivia, re-appending the same information manually that I have offered year after year, child after child, with no option to verify, create or submit online, just mindless hours of drone work.  Most of this information does not change and requires me to scurry around the house checking innoculation records, our Yahoo! family calendar, our home phone list, etc.

My joy is boundless.

Here are three words that make the process more bearable:

CLEAR ADDRESS LABELS

There are my favorite “motherhood tip.”  I often give the labels as baby gifts.  They have saved me scores if not hundreds of hours in 16 years – at school, at church, at Scouts, in the doctor’s office, at trade shows – everywhere.

I keep a roll for each child and myself in my desk upstairs, in my admin drawer in the kitchen and in my desk at work.  I keep several for each child and myself folded and tucked in my wallet.   When I am anywhere that I am required to append name/address/phone number for any of us – I whip them out and slap them down.  I don’t care if I have to stick 10 on one piece of paper.  If someone is irritating enough to ask me to repeat a name 10 times, a sheet fulla labels with full name/address/phone number is their problem.

The trick is to have them the labels you need them.  If you don’t have them handy, you won’t use them, and then you’re stuck trying to cram your child’s name, address and phone number onto the 2″ line on the hideous blue form you can barely read anyway.

When I sit down to do the mountain of kids’ school forms, I assemble:

-  Clear, block-print return address labels w/home phone number for each of us

-  Good black pen, checkbook, reading glasses, home phone list (ours is six single-spaced typed pages), stapler, paper clips.  Scissors would often be helpful, but the urge to use for them other than their intended purpose is too great.

-  Cordless phone for reaching daughters secreted in their rooms to inquire, “What is your advisor’s name?” or “Do you want a Green Out shirt?”

-  Wastebasket for 90% of it.

-  Diet Coke early in the evening; red wine when the air turns blue

The kitchen becomes mysteriously deserted as I begin to wade through the administrivia swamp.  Everybody knows to stay outta my way.  In addition to the full NEISD packet’o'stuff per child, Rachel also brought home a separate 16-page envelope just for choir.  My first check of the evening was for $70 for Lois’ “not mandatory but strongly encouraged” choir outing – with nine pages of information to complete.  Yes – nine pages for one outing.  I am so proud Lois has done well in choir.  I love hearing the Bush Middle School choir.  The teacher is one of the very best I’ve ever known.  I don’t begrudge the $70 at all.  I want Lois to go on the outing.  But nine pages of questions I’ve answered year after year?  GeeeeeROAN!

At the end of the evening, I eventually survey a completed packet (or packets) for each child, plus a stack of loose papers with dates circled when I then take upstairs and enter on our Yahoo! family calendar, and often our calendars at work. Usually a few emails to teachers are required, too.

This year I slapped down 182 clear return address labels.  I wrote 11 checks totaling $349.  I posted 15 dates to calendars, and sent three emails to teachers.

I have long believed motherhood is less about ooey-gooey professions of devotion than it is about day-to-day management.  I spend at least 10 hours on maintenance (washing, transporting, nursing, cooking, cleaning, shopping and admin’ing) for every hour of way-more-fun quality time.  Everything I do to reduce time spent on maintenance is more time available for quality.  So I really think three little words like this:

CLEAR ADDRESS LABELS

are sticky expressions of three little words like this:

I LOVE YOU

I’m off to rummage through backpacks and shoulder bags, gathering up the next batch of admin.  In the meantime….three other little words….

Lois – 8th grade; Julia – 1st grade; Rachel – 11th grade; Hannah – 6th grade

First day of this new school year!   Their pencils are all sharpened.  Their lunch accounts are funded.  Everybody got new clothes and a backpack – though I found out Friday afternoon Hannah won’t get to use hers, at least for school.  Sixth graders get lockers, but are not allowed to carry backpacks because they get books for school and home.  We made a rushed trip to Academy for a Dickes shoulder tote for transporting homework.

Hannah and Lois will get one year together in middle school.  Julia had last year in elementary school with Hannah, but won’t be in school with a sister again.  Makes me a little sad – but I am so thankful she and Hannah were together last year.

Julia chose a Dora the Explorer shirt for this important first day, and ate her scrambled eggs from the Dora the Explorer plate using themed utensils.  When Rachel asked (in jest) if she could use the plate and utensils, Julia replied, “No.  You do not look like Dora, Rachel.”  Word!

The girls’ excitement offsets my – ummmmmmm – lack of enthusiasm for the amount of parental self-discipline the school year requires.  But hey – We’ve been doing it for 11 years, and we have only 11 more to go.  So…..

Cowabunga,dude - I’ve just Simpsonized our family.

Here’s the Mister.  D’oh!

And moi in da kitchen.

And Rachel with the “I just straightened it” hair.

Lois could knock out a few scripts for Itchy and Scratchy in an afternoon. And they would disturb you.

Hannah and Lisa could be friends, braced – uhhh – united for social justice.

And Julia the soon-to-be-first-grader, who would love to have a turn with Bart’s skateboard.

There’s a bit of irony in a hamburger chain promoting a movie whose central character rose to fame saying, “Don’t have a cow, man.”

But still – you gotta love Burger King promotions, like this Simpsonizer, and the Subservient Chicken.  You don’t?  Really?  Well remember what Marge Simpson says:  ‘Listen to your heart and not the voices in your head.”