There’s a lot of hullabaloo over school prayer. As far as we’re concerned, we’ve been praying for school to resume and it’d be okay if everyone agreed on a time and said, in unison, Amen.

Yes, amen to the start of school.

So now, with our prayers answered and the kids in school, or away at school, or just plain out of the house, what do we do? 

Why be introspective and try to improve upon ourselves when we are perfectly capable of nitpicking those around us. Let’s begin with our husbands. Give us strength as we start in.

Let’s be clear. There are two kinds of guys in the world… those who care about their appearance and those we married. The former are neatly groomed, stylishly dressed and tend to smell better than we do. The latter… let’s just say divine intervention might be needed. At the very least, since everyone else gets back-to-school clothing, we figure it’s time to get them some new duds, too.

Pants. Sometime between getting married last century and yesterday, the styles changed, even for guys. Our husbands didn’t get the memo. 

At least, that’s what the retail associate assured us. For years we’ve stood outside dressing rooms, talking through closed fitting room doors to our kids as they tried on everything from blue jeans to formal wear. It’s a little strange to be talking to your spouse, begging and pleading and cajoling him into trying on pants in an unfamiliar style. “Just try them on.  Please. They might look nice.” 

Full disclosure. Clothes should be comfortable. No one wants to wear pants so tight that they could be confused with the outfits worn in This is Spinal Tap. But surely there’s a middle ground in the world of men’s fashion, somewhere between Conan O’Brien and Fred Mertz.

The compromise? Pants without pleats. Hallelujah.

Next order of business: the kids’ bedrooms and the contraband therein. Don’t get excited.  Nothing is blotter-worthy. But there is some satisfaction to be had in unearthing the hunk of corn bread, the kitchen scissors, the wet socks in unmatched pairs, fifteen bottles of half-used hair products and the un-cashed gift check from grandparents dated 2010. It’s time, after all, to deliver these items from the limbo of the bedroom floor. They’re in a better place now.

Last order of business: reclaim the car. It’s got to be detailed. For the entire summer, we’ve been grocery shopping on our bicycles. Sure, we claim it’s because it’s “green” and “healthy” and a bunch of other nonsense. The truth is, our kids got to the keys before we did, and our cars have suffered. Hell hath no fury like a mother finding schmutz on her car seat. 

And the stink of summer sporting equipment, sloshing around in the back of the car during 105 degrees of summer heat? Not so nice. Why did God give boys feet? 

So prayer in school? We don’t support that. A prayer of thanks that school has begun? Let us bow our heads.