1 Year, 2 months and 28 Days, Give or Take a Few

I will now post about something that is constantly on my mind, but is so complicated and awful that I can't speak about it for more than about 10 seconds without feeling like I'm going lose it.

Josey is going to school next year.

I already know that the day that happens is going to be one of the worst days of my entire life. It's a given that Russ will have to take at least one day off work because I'm going to be too much of a wreck to deal with it on my own. Why, you ask? Because I hated, HATED, school. To this day I dream (or nightmare) at least once a week that I am back in school, without having been to class for a long time ("but I haven't even touched a clarinet in 8 years!"), not knowing where my next class is, or not knowing anything about the subject, with a test or exam coming up (ok, that one definitely stems from actual recollections of Mr Lamperd's OAC biology class and Mr Cheng's gr. 11 math). Although I'm sure there were more good times, my selective memory only remembers dreading having to go back to school after lunch in elementary school, feeling like everyone was picking on me for years, panicked homework and cram sessions, and teachers that I disliked. I was so disillusioned with it all by the time I graduated that I opted out of going to grad, and wish I hadn't even gone to the graduation ceremony, where I frantically had to invent where I was going to university after hearing the audience - students AND parents - laugh at the one other girl in the same situation as me (no awards for high marks, technically graduating but still going to another high school for a semester to finish up her OACs - all they announced was her name...nothing else amongst the "Brainy McBrainerson! Award for all marks over 90% and highest mark in OAC Latin! Headed off to Harvard to study Rocket Science!" (insert audience screams and cheers) Oh, and then the nastiest guidance counsellor that has ever lived gave me crap about it because it "messed up the records"). School just seemed like a disaster from start to finish and although I know that it will very probably be different for my kids, the thought of sending them off so tiny to a place where I can't control what people are saying and doing to them just kills me. I'm trying my hardest to not inflict my own fears and bad feelings on them, but what am I supposed to do when one of them comes home in tears because they're being bullied, or because they just don't like it? It's going to take every ounce of my strength to fake cheeriness as I put them right back on the bus the next morning to send them off to my personal hell. Homeschooling would definitely be an option if I wasn't so concerned about properly socializing my kids, and if I knew they wouldn't just drive me crazy for 7 hours a day that could otherwise be mine alone. I'm already contemplating holding Josey back for an extra year, despite the fact that he's a January baby and will be nearly 5 by the time he starts school. Naturally the baby is complicating all of this, because if it's anything like the last two, it will completely consume all my time for the first year of its life, which brings us to - oh yay - September and the beginning of school. "Hey Jose, I've neglected you for the past 3 years thanks to your siblings, and now that things are settling down and I actually have time for you, I'm shipping you off to a place that you may very well hate, but where you have to go for the next 14+ years! Happy happy!"
Well, it's 11 PM - time to climb into bed and spend the night dreaming about "the best years of my life", or so they say :P