Have you ever been at the beach and decided to leave your cushy spot under an umbrella and venture out into the ocean? 

Your first contact is the heavenly relief of the cool water as it hits your sand burned feet, followed by the strange sensation of the sand being stripped from around your heels as the water is pulled back into the ocean.

It’s usually a bit of a challenge to get beyond the breakers, but at about waist deep you find your sweet spot. You gently glide over wave after wave and then watch as they crash, one after the other, against the sandy beach behind you.

As you float and idol about, you inhale deeply the salty ocean air and perhaps reflect on life for a moment. Despite some hardships and setbacks, you feel good; you got this life thing. You can do it, even with four kids and a parental partner, you can do it.

Perhaps then you look out to the horizon and admire the vastness and beauty of this world, and while you do, you spot a wave headed in.

You know it’s there and that it’s a larger wave, but you aren’t too concerned. You close your eyes for a minute and then open them, suddenly realizing that you have drastically underestimated the size of the wave. It’s far too late to do anything about it at this point, and so the wave hits, hard, and crashes over you.

You topple about like a sock in the washing machine, unsure of which way is up and which way is down, choking on the salt water, waving your arms about trying to right yourself. You stand up, shakily, automatically braced for another hit. Your wet hair clings to your face and seals off your mouth and nose, and your attempt to catch your breath.

Finally, after what feels like eternity and a near death experience, you find your bearings, and your breath, and stand there, depleted, wondering what in the world just happened. 

Well, this about sums up how the new school year has hit me. Like a large and underestimated ocean wave crashing over me.

Someone throw me a towel, please.