Spring break as a parent is the polar opposite of spring break as a kid. Before I even get into that, I'm going to be completely up front and say I'm not a fan of school vacations in general. In fact, Monday is my favorite day of the week. I'm grateful for that moment when lunches are packed, socks and sneakers (how many times do I have to ask you?!) are on and quiet falls over my apartment. I've learned, as a mother, how much I appreciate solitude. I can't remember a day, a single day, when I wasn't asked, blamed, ordered around, been yelled at, woken up, caught in the middle. During the week, I can keep it together for mornings, play dates, classes, baths, dinner, homework, reading, bedtime. Barely. But whole days to fill with often bickering people completely wipe me out.
At least weekends are finite. Two days to fill and they're almost over before you know it. But spring break? Well over a week straight of me against them. Only so often these days my kids are battling each other and I'm caught in the middle. Sigh. Make that one exhausted, heartfelt, overwhelmed sigh.
This spring break everyone's out of town. Except us. I'm two days in to "camp mom" as many call it, and I'm done. Yesterday we wandered through Soho until everyone's legs were barely able to move. Today was the Nintendo store and upper east. Places I can't stand. Dylan's Candy Store? What was I thinking? I'll be picking up sour watermelon candy for months. Time has actually stopped moving—I'm just waiting for the day to finally end. By 3 it feels like it should be bedtime and that hour between 3 and 4 feels like and entire day. No one can agree on anything to do and so by dinner everyone's so cranky and pissy we can't stand each other. I'm regressing. I should be able to put on a big smile, break out some game or bake cookies, and make it all better. But I can't. I just want this to end.