Spring Break. It’s been tough. The kids were at it from the gate so I finally labeled our home as an official war zone. It’s a real life civil war around here. Then I forced peace talks. A treaty was signed. Now when tempers flare someone says “TREATY!” and it’s supposed to be code for: Cut the crap or we’ll be folding laundry for the rest of the day and going to bed without the Wii. So far it’s worked, if you can call it that. It’s not really that different from other civil wars. People are still getting blown up around here only the grief and irresolution is being muttered under their breath instead of faced as full force revenge i.e. revolution.
Aside from that, there’s the 24/7 on-call aspect of Spring Break. The husband’s out of town. It’s not his fault, he’s out making the dough to pay for this great idea I had, us. The baby (ok, ok, I know she’s not a baby but calling her one helps keep me from having more of the little cuties) is like a fast puppy without a leash. I’m chasing after her at the park, the Sciencenter and yes, IHOP. She’s emptying out my purse, she’s washing her hands with shampoo, she’s taking all her clothes off and running out in front of cars. She is in that Godzilla phase where she totally annihilates any good game the older kids have going on and then cries about it when they kick her out. She’s drawn all over Asher’s new laptop and I don’t think Orion’s got a fighting chance at putting back together any of his lego masterpieces.
I’m tired. I’m beat. I’m emotionally and mentally exhausted. There’s no Velvet, no adult stimulation, and it’s all non-stop. Until now. Now’s when they’ve all gone to sleep and I’m going to get into my heavenly bed and read Gone With the Wind and Scarlett will remind me how little I’ve learned. In the most entertaining sermon imaginable, I’ll be reminded of what nonsense this whole post is when at the end of the day I’ve got down pillows and Tara. What a life…