It’s May, ya’ll and I am so done.
I want to be done with homework, done with parties, and most of all, I want to be done with Field Trips.
I just bought enough Lunchables to make it from now until I go to the grocery store again, because if I have to come up with one more nutritious but still delicious lunch, I might die.
Okay, fine. Not die, but I will flop on my couch in the most dramatic way imaginable and exclaim my hatred for all things cold cut. It’s happening.
Today, my daughter came home with a note full of information for her fifth field trip of the school year. In addition, she got chosen for competition choir (get it, girl!) and that means a trip to some amusement park whose slogan reads “the most complete picnic location.”
What does that even mean? What is a complete picnic? Is that like when you get to a picnic, but then find out there is no potato salad, and just LOSE YOUR SHIZ because the picnic isn’t complete? So they solved it, by creating a complete picnic location?
That place better have potato salad or I am going to start flipping tables.
Just kidding. I don’t even like potato salad.
But seriously, what is the deal with all these field trips? Each and every one needs a whole gaggle of chaperones, and being the overprotective helicopter parent that I am, I get all stressed out if my kid doesn’t bring at least one parent with her.
But I am not going to lie, when we got notice for the last field trip, which by the way was a day at the lake fishing and hiking… we totally rock paper scissor’d to decide who had to go.
In case you’re wondering, I went with dynamite. Because no way was I going to spend a day at the lake with a bunch of fifth graders. I don’t even want to go to the lake by myself.
I kid you not, while I was writing this post, I got an email from her teacher telling me there will be six more field trips between now and the end of school.
I mean, look I get it– now that the standardized test is over for the year, teachers have kind of checked out, but SIX FIELD TRIPS?
Not to mention field day, and an end of the year party that lasts all day outside that I, as the homeroom mom am expected to plan.
I emailed back, trying to come up with something to say, but I have no words. All I could do was send the teacher this picture of a deflated duck.
Because that’s how I feel y’all. I am that deflated duck. That deflated duck is me.
All I want to do is sleep in, spend the day swimming with my kid and listening to Taylor Swift songs on the radio, but instead we will be heading to the world’s most complete picnic location, catching fish with a bunch of kids, or on a non-air-conditioned, sticky pleathered seat bus to an art museum.
Seriously. I might be the most uncultured person on the planet, because I am pretty sure my own personal hell is taking a class of fifth graders to a modern art museum.