They should warn you of the long, pointless book reports that take up the majority of your evening (think decorating a T-shirt with glitter and glue and sequins and fire-breathing dragons) and make it so you have to skip out on other things (anything, really) you'd rather be doing.
Think Cub Scout pack meeting that you just can't miss (even when it lasts forever and is soooooo boring) because you have to be there so your son can pin his Mother's Pin on your shirt when he gets an award.
Think of the feelings of frustration when you've told a certain child a million times to be home at 6:30 for dinner and they finally come waltzing in the door at 7:15 after dinner is all cleaned up and they casually ask, "What's for dinner?" and I have to stay calm and suppress the feelings of rage that are trying to burst forth.
Think of the hours of sitting, waiting, watching ALL of the soccer tryouts. All of those dang soccer tryouts and the worrying and silent cheering, that accompany it.
Think of the crying, whining, fit-throwing, screaming, tantrums, and absolute meltdowns. Think of the constant, never-ending question, "Mom?... Mom?... Mom?.........MOM?!?"
Think of the hundreds of water balloons you have to fill up for a class party, just because your child's teacher asked you to.
Think of the late nights... The early mornings.... All of the school projects.... All of the sports and recitals... The good and the bad, the sad and the happy. Yes, someone really should warn you.
Because even though I love my kids with all my heart and I would do anything for them... Right now I'm ready to run away to a deserted island.
Summer, please come soon!