“If August had a face, it would be sweating. Stressed. And asking for a manager.”

-This Puzzled Life

Light the charcoal. August has rolled up on my porch like a sweaty Jehovah’s Witness with a clipboard and a mission. And I am once again reminded that this is the month when children across the Deep South rise up as one unified voice to declare, “We don’t wanna go.” And honestly? Same.

August in Mississippi is hotter than Satan’s armpit. The air is thick enough to butter biscuits with. And every mama I know is clinging to the last threads of summer like it’s the final lifeboat off the Titanic.

Meanwhile, the school district is out here acting like we’re all supposed to be excited about “a fresh start.” A fresh start? Ma’am, I’m a middle‑aged lesbian mom in Deep South Mississippi. The only fresh start I’m getting is when I open a new stick of deodorant.

But here we are. The dog days of August. The month when backpacks reappear. Lunchboxes resurface from the underworld. And children suddenly develop medical conditions like “I can’t go to school because my soul hurts.”

And because I’m me. My Gen X DNA refuses to let me suffer in silence. I’ve decided that this entire month, my blogs will be dedicated to reflecting on what it was like growing up as an 80s kid. A feral, sunburned, unsupervised, seatbelt‑optional, rotary‑phone‑wrangling Gen Xer. Because if I’m going to survive back‑to‑school season as a middle‑aged mom in Mississippi, I might as well laugh my way through it and drag y’all with me.

This month is when school begins here in the Deep South. My kids are not excited about their education. In fact, they told me that they would prefer to learn by traveling the world. So, I asked how they plan to make that happen financially? Their response was, “Well, we have everything lined up but the money.” I asked them, “What is the best part about school?” They replied, “Going home.” So, I asked, “What’s the worst thing about school?” Now, in my day, the answer was the food. Those lunch ladies served mystery meat that could’ve doubled as building material. But my kids? Their answer was: “Going to school.”

I told them, “Well, unfortunately, it’s a law.” They asked, “Why is it a law?” I said, “The government doesn’t want a bunch of dummies running around in our country.” To which my oldest replied, without missing a beat, “Why not? They’re running around in our government.”

And listen. Did I correct him? No. I smiled like a proud mama who just witnessed a spark of critical thinking ignite in the wild. I asked, “Do you just prefer to go through life uneducated?” He said, “Yes.” And honestly? I had to respect the consistency. I wasn’t fired up about education at that age either.

One thing my daddy did with me right before school started each year was take me and my sister out to dinner to discuss the upcoming school year. Which is something I also do with my boys. However, in this economy, we go to dinner together instead of separate meals. And really, they don’t care as long as they can eat to their heart’s content.

This month I’ve decided to reminisce on my days of growing up in school and at home in the greatest decade ever. Yes, I am a Gen Xer who grew up in the 80s. And yes, even my cats need clarification on how different life was back then. If you also grew up during that time, you will enjoy this month’s sometimes hilarious memories of mine to which you can probably relate. Also, my cannabis strains this month will reflect things from the 1980s. And please. If you have any additional memories, leave a comment on this blog.

Sit back as we get through the dog days of August with a trip that is sure to bring a smile to your face and laughter in your belly. And yes, I will also mention what it’s like now being middle‑aged. Because Lord knows that’s a whole saga by itself.

Buckle up, buttercup. School is back. August is here. And I’m about to drag you through the 1980s like a kid being pulled by the arm through Kmart. We survived metal playground slides hot enough to brand cattle. Water hoses that tasted like pennies. And parents who didn’t know where we were for 12 hours at a time.

If we lived through that, we can survive back‑to‑school season, middle age, and whatever fresh nonsense August tries to throw at us. Now excuse me while I go pack lunches. Sign forms. And pretend I’m not Googling “How many days until fall break.” Bell rung. Class dismissed. Thanks for reading! What is a memory you have of going to school in the 80s?

Affirmation: “I am a resilient Gen Xer. I survived the 80s. I can survive August. And I will not be defeated by school supply lists, teenage attitudes, or the Mississippi heat.”

***Don’t forget to watch the video!***

#ThisPuzzledLife