I just signed up 14 of my children for fall soccer. Our county puts siblings on the same teams in their respective age groups so I only have four teams going at one time plus a daughter at cheerleader practice. My older grown kids still living with me have jobs and classes, they aren’t able to help me much anymore with transportation and ballgames.

Between the games and the practices, plus our many therapy appointments, the after school schedule is tight. I’m finding tutoring help as well, we’ve cleaned the house top to bottom, school starts next week and the kids are ratcheting their behaviors sky high, reflecting the anxiety over change, and leaving our comfort zone.

We’ll have Open House at each school on Tuesday; a Meet the Teachers, get your folders and they’ll send me home with many mountains of paperwork to fill out on the kids.

I’ll have each day free for just me; I can play catch-up with the house repair. I’m aware that most folks refer to it as house cleaning, but living with traumatized children results in constant damage and destruction, demanding my time, attention and money.

But our upcoming 96 hours until then will be rampant with rages, kids melting down like puddles of wax, angry and despairing over the end of a fairly delightful summer, facing society’s pressures to wear shoes, pay attention and listen to the teachers. Kids like mine, with inabilities to attend to what’s at hand, little focus and hampered by so many emotional issues that stand in the way of some good learning, kids like mine that would just as soon stay home with mama and not face any stress.

These are the children I have to keep preparing for the real world; it’s more than a full-time job.