Surviving Easter “Break”

Bad dayHappy Easter and Passover everyone! For me, Easter is the end of Spring Break as I know it. School was scheduled to be closed on Monday, but we finally got the comp time for one of the eight snow days that we had to work. Funny, that’s how I remember comp time working in the business world too.

Thanks to my son’s preschool, spring break was pretty easy for me. His school is also a daycare, so it doesn’t close during school holidays, plus it has a school-age program for my six-year-old daughter. I used to feel guilty about sending her, but I simply cannot provide the level of entertainment that she requires. And her therapist (that’s another story – See Major Meltdowns: From bad to worse) says she needs a lot of structure, so it turns out that sending her was the right thing for her all along.

This week I kept her home on Monday because she had a play date – her first since we moved here four months ago. She’d had another one that got cancelled and she was devastated (See “Dealing with Disappointment and Dread), so I was happy when this actually happened.

The girls played well together on Monday, and it was a nice day, so they were in and out a lot. I even made this Cloud Dough for them to play with. I am not that kind of mom, so I was really proud of myself. The girls had a long play date and everything went well Monday.

On Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday, I dropped both kids off at my son’s school, and went to work on my book.

On Good Friday, my son’s school was closed, so I had both kids all day. I had great plans for us. I wanted to see “Muppets Most Wanted.” I wanted to take them to the park. All of that would have happened if my son hadn’t woken me at the crack of dawn.

He had come into our bed in the middle of the night, which usually bodes well for him sleeping late. But not Friday. He woke up before my husband’s alarm and I told him to go back to sleep. He laid down, flopped over. Laid down, flopped. Flopped. Flopped. After about half an hour, he said he wanted to snuggle. Thinking I might get back to sleep, I rolled over and held him. Then he started to sing to himself. He was a late talker but once he started talking he hasn’t shut up since. And I’m not just saying that. He is never quiet. Never.

When we got up I was so tired that I was in a fog, and far beyond any help from caffeine. Nevertheless, I had coffee and spent the next two hours with the kids watching TV and lying on the couch. It didn’t help. I knew they needed an activity so we got dressed and I took them to the bouncy-house place. A kid’s dream, right? Well, my daughter kept coming over to my chair and complaining – first that she was thirsty –she’d brought a toy water bottle but it was not allowed inside so she had to leave it in the car. And after she’d had a drink she kept coming over to me asking how long before her afternoon play date – one of the moms had come through on that one.

So my daughter would go down the bouncy slide, come over and ask me how long. Then she’d go down the bouncy slide again and come over and ask again. Then she’d jump for a minute on another castle and come over again. It was maddening and I wondered why I paid ten dollars a head for this.

Anyway, we were running out of time between lunch and the play date, so we left. I had planned to take them out to lunch, but my son whined that he wanted to go home and my daughter didn’t seem enthused, so home we went. And of course when we turned into the neighborhood, my daughter said, “I thought we were going to a restaurant.”

I got them lunch and lay on the couch for an hour before play date time. When the time came, I was still exhausted and foggy but we went to the park to meet my daughter’s friend. I thought the friend’s little brother was coming to play with my son, so I was disappointed that he wasn’t there. I expected to chat with the girl’s father during the play date – sitting down – but I had to run after my son to see him and the benches were strategically placed wherever the kids weren’t. Somehow I made it through the play date and we went home, where I lay on the couch again and asked my husband when he could leave work. He generously said “Regular time,” so I had two hours until he came home and I could go to bed.

My husband eventually showed up and took the kids to dinner, after  a half-hour discussion about where they could go.  I finally stumbled to bed, grateful that the day was over and looking forward to things going back to normal.