Do you know what I’m not going to miss over the summer holidays?

The hour just before the kids leave for school in the morning.

I used to think the toughest hour of the day was the dinner hour, trying to lasso the children with my non-stirring hand and get them to set the table, remember to give just two knives (for Greg and I) but all five place settings should include a cup, then get the water, then pour the water, then the forks, don’t forget the forks and the plates and the butter if there’s corn, “Is there corn Mom?” No, “So we don’t need butter?” Correct, “How many knives again?” Just two. “Forks for everyone?” Yes.

But the buzz mixed with the stirring, the smells, the general business of preparing dinner and having my family around has become somewhat cathartic.

It’s that hour before school that is killing me.

Maybe it’s because I’m not totally awake though I’ve been up since 6am and it’s now 8am.

Maybe it’s that the girls asked for plain Cheerios and I have just Multigrain to offer. The Multigrain Cheerios they secretly think are Honey Nut Cheerios. It’s a good thing none of them know how to read.

Maybe it’s the third spill of the morning. The first I breathe deeply and wipe up with one hand while the other signs a permission slip and my elbow fishes $7 out of the bottom of my purse for a field trip.

The second spill, I talk myself down from the ledge and repeat, “They’ll be gone in a minute, just wipe it up and turn the kettle back on.”

The third spill combined with combing uncombable hair and fitting unfittable shoes and zipping unzippable backpacks and squeezing unsqueezeable sunscreen and looking for unfindable library books and peeling unpeelable mangos for school lunches and braiding unlice-infested hair (fingers crossed) and convincing a four year old that it is in fact a Gala apple in her lunch when it’s actually a Red Delicious and she is totally calling me on it.

That hour.

I am not going to miss it.