Final Countdown

In 7 days, 8 hours and 16 minutes, the kids return to school. But who's counting?

(Me. I have a countdown timer on my computer to mark this momentous occasion.)

And I will go to yoga. No really, I swear I will. I haven't been since I called that not pregnant lady pregnant, but I'm ready now.

I will go to the beach alone and I will bring one chair and a book and it will be glorious.

I will read books without being interrupted to hear about video games or sharks.

I will swim in the pool without wearing another human being as a necklace.

I will not wonder if I should buy a striped shirt and a whistle since I will no longer be a full time referee.

I will not hear open-mouthed chewing at lunch time.

I will have a semi-normal life with a schedule--a schedule that never involves bowling.

I will never complain about packing a lunch again. Until at least November.

When that morning bell rings, I am pretty sure fat little trumpet-toting, diaper-wearing cherubs will descend from the heavens to serenade me, and Jesus Christ himself will probably slide down a rainbow to shake my hand and say, "Good job, Ashley. I don't know how you managed, I would've smacked someone."

 I'll be okay if that last part doesn't happen, but really, I won't be surprised if it does.

I have survived a true test of the soul and I didn't even smack anyone.