Remember when sporting an “I Survived Spring Break” t-shirt was an awesome way to tell complete strangers you were a party-hearty badass?
It meant you had spent a week living it up at a some sort of fabulous beach destination with tons of other good-looking badasses, and had come through it (albeit very hung over) without a hospital visit for alcohol poisoning nor any time served in a Mexican prison. Not only did you live to tell about your week-long party parade, you bought a t-shirt to commemorate the horrendously fun time you had just so you could tell the general public about it without having to waste your valuable time actually telling them.
Although I am well past those pre-kid spring break party days, after reflecting on this past week I realize I am equally deserving of one of these arrogant shirts.
Even more now than ever before.
You see, I didn’t simply survive 5 days of innocent freedom sprinkled with unadulterated bliss, as I had during the spring breaks of my naive youth. Instead, I survived 5 continuous days with my 3 very energetic, very eager, very rambunctious boys. 9 days, actually, if you count the weekends.
What? I am a stay-at-home mom, you say? Isn’t spring break basically just like any other week for me?
Ah, my dear mystified reader, you surely do not have children.
For if you did, you would know that these 5 eagerly anticipated days are squished together so uncomfortably that it’s almost suffocating. There is so much excitement filling the air each day as the kids wake up I feel like we will all eventually burst into a thousand pieces. With each day brings new questions about what the agenda is, followed by more questions throughout the day about the activities we have completed on our agenda, as well as the activities which we have yet to complete.
The endless amount of questions is enough to make even the most proficient mom frazzled. I am certain mental exhaustion peaks for mom’s during spring break while their patience simultaneously plummets to its lowest point all year. (That is, until summer vacation rolls around.)
Though there were moments when i banished everyone to their separate spaces for some much-needed alone time, I, for the most part, managed to keep my cool and actually enjoy our little suffocating week together. In between the countless number of fights I refereed, the unending questions, the long car rides, the tedious planning, and the frequent headaches, we were able to: take in The Lorax together, enjoy a play based on the book “How I Became a Pirate,” scarf down some chili-cheese coneys at JCI, not break any bones roller skating, help a charity pack meals for kids in need, celebrate Ryan’s 5th birthday, teach the kids the difference between “hockey” language and “everyday” language, and celebrate St. Patrick’s Day with holiday food, music, crafts, and games.
We also managed to squeeze in lame stuff like getting haircuts and taking H for his semi-annual eye check-up.
All in all it was a great success filled with many scrapbook-worthy memories, but I am thoroughly exhausted.
As a good teacher friend of mine so eloquently posted as her FB status on day 3 of spring break: “Spring break is a sweet reminder that stay-at-home parenthood is not for me.”
And though it is (for the most part) for me, spring break is definitely a sweet reminder that I need to get really good end-of-the-year teacher gifts.
Now, where’s my t-shirt?