It's time for the kids to go back to school, although if I paid attention to the retail ads, I would have sent them six weeks ago, when stores started running "back to school" specials while there was still snow on the ground.
OK, there wasn't cold, wet, icy stuff on the ground, but it was there in my imagination, since I wasn't even fully in the summer frame of mind yet.
Here in Southern California, we had what one newsman called the "bummer summer," with unseasonably chilly temperatures that were worst on days you wanted to go to the beach.
Meanwhile, I know that much of the rest of the nation has been sizzling, so apparently the missing digits from our summer temperatures were just added onto theirs.
Now, in August, all around the country, good mothers are feeling sad that their youngsters are leaving them once again for six hours per day, left to the tender mercies of virtual strangers.
I, on the other hand, am ready, ready, ready.
The kids' new school clothes have been reposing on hangers in my closet for more than a month, since for once I didn't procrastinate and bought when they went on sale.
School supplies are hidden there, too.
This year, with all the budget cuts, the school's student supply list was longer than ever.
Our school not only wants them to bring pencils, notebooks and paper, but also air conditioners, roofing materials, lawn fertilizer, toilet plungers and extra vodka and swizzle sticks for the teachers' lounge.
I'm exaggerating, of course, but I have heard of schools this year asking for toilet paper and other staples that one might think the state should supply, maybe by cutting the salaries of some top officials.
Since Cheetah Boy is going into the 8th grade, and Curly Girl into the 6th, both my kids will be in middle school and we will no longer have the pleasant suburban ritual of walking over to the school days before it opens, to look at schedules posted on the door showing which one special teacher they will torture all year long.
Cheetah Boy spent the summer as a "counselor-in-training" at a local park camp. Very soon, we'll be back on the daily homework grind, which consists of me nagging and him doing, grudgingly. I dread this as much as he does.
This will be a big adjustment for Curly Girl, as she gets used to middle school and changing classes every hour. I'm really looking forward to this, since it was so much fun with her brother.
Meanwhile, I can breathe a sigh and know the state is back doing what it should do: Supervising my kids for me six hours a day, so I can get some work done and pay at least some of our bills. And who knows? Maybe the kids will even learn something.
Marla Jo Fisher was a workaholic before she adopted two foster kids several years ago. Now she juggles work and single parenting, while being exhorted from everywhere to be thinner, smarter, sexier, healthier, more frugal, a better mom, better dressed and a tidier housekeeper. Contact her at mfisher@ocregister.com. Read her blog at themomblog.freedomblogging.com/category/frumpy-middleaged-mom-marla-jo-fisher/. Distributed by McClatchy-Tribune Information Services.