We just finished up a spectacularly glorious week of spring break in which we did absolutely nothing. When the kids went back to school on Monday I realized, to my horror, that I must have even skipped a day or two of laundry. Laundry math is like kid sleep math; it doesn’t make any sense but it is RELIABLE.
Kid sleep math: If you keep your kids up for six hours past their bedtime, they will wake up two hours earlier than normal.
Laundry math: If you skip one day of laundry, you will spend the next six days making up for it and no one will have clean underwear on the first day back to school.
We didn’t do anything for spring break because I was really, really looking forward to a few days without the hustle of the bus stop, packing snacks and lunches, and taming Mary’s hair into a “half-way up with a braid. I mean a bun. No maybe a low pony?”
We also didn’t do anything because we already went on an awesome spring break trip. That’s what I’d tell the kids every time they even started to whine that they’d really like to have a friend over but most of my friends are in HAWAII.
We didn’t do much, but we did fill the week with a cousin sleepover, a visit from Grammy and Gramps, and as much adventuring, fun, and rest as we could possibly manage.
We started the week off with a mulch delivery. My kids LOVE a mulch pile, and Tom loves the challenge of mulching our yard. Neighbors cheer for him as they drive by; we love being “that house” in the neighborhood.
At the end of the week we piled the kids, the bikes, and my mom and dad into the van and went biking/exploring at a nearby park. I love when the kids take off on a trail with their helmets on — always better safe than sorry.
Huge milestone — David learned to mow the grass on the last day of spring break. While I watched, Mary hooked her arm around my waist and talked about how she couldn’t believe David is old enough to mow the grass! He’s growing up so fast! Just another time I was forced to reckon with the reality that I am, without a doubt, raising a curly-haired version of myself.