Ten days. That’s how long my four children will be off for their spring break. One evening, after we finally got the kids settled in bed, my husband, Mark, casually asked me what I had planned for them the Monday following Easter. I raised an eyebrow at him, confused. “What do you mean?” I replied.
He pointed out that he had noticed an extra day off while checking the school lunch menu. That’s when the anxiety kicked in.
A few days off around a holiday is manageable—a long weekend filled with pajamas, movies, playdates, and trips to the park can be enjoyable. But ten days? Did anyone actually think through that? That’s 240 hours and 14,400 minutes! But who’s counting?
I adore my kids, truly. I cherish those lazy days we sometimes have. But ten days of early mornings, cranky kids, and them snacking on jelly beans and chocolate rabbits? It’s a bit much for any parent to handle.
By nine in the morning, sibling squabbles have escalated into full-blown battles. I find myself inundated with passionate complaints about who touched whom, who forgot to flush the toilet, and who took the other’s favorite Lego piece.
It’s utter chaos. And of course, they’re asking for snacks. They’re “starving,” despite the healthy breakfast of eggs, fruit, and toast I made.
By eleven, I’m frantically searching for summer camps (the ones that are well out of our budget) while the kids race around the yard in their pajamas. Within minutes of being outside, they’re already demanding lunch because, naturally, they’re about to perish from hunger. And it’s too hot outside. (It’s a brisk 62 degrees.) And they claim to be bored. (What happened to the bikes, sidewalk chalk, and bubbles?)
By one o’clock, it’s nap time for the baby, but she’s too wired from the earlier chaos to calm down. I relent on my “no screens” rule and let the kids pick a movie. The problem? They can’t agree on one.
The toddler is singing the theme from Daniel Tiger’s Neighborhood, the kindergartner is shouting “Paw Patrol!” repeatedly while bouncing on the couch, my eight-year-old daughter insists on a superhero flick, and my tween, who thinks he’s too cool for everything, rejects all suggestions.
Eventually, they settle on watching Wonder. But of course, they need popcorn. And yes, we had lunch just 46 minutes ago, but that’s beside the point.
As I pop a massive batch on the stove, feeling increasingly desperate, I ponder whether anyone would hire me for full-time work immediately. I might even pay them to take me on.
Let’s face it: there aren’t enough venti lattes in the universe to tackle spring break.
After Mark dropped the bomb about the extended spring break, it hit me that this was just a preview of what summer would bring. If I thought ten days of “bonding” time was demanding, I can only imagine the challenge of three months.
Sure, we could opt for a structured approach. With my background in education, planning and executing engaging activities is something I know how to do. I could get workbooks, organize trips to museums, create chore charts, and attempt Pinterest-inspired crafts that would cost a small fortune for materials, some of which I might have to order from New Zealand. I could be the ultimate summer planner.
But the reality is, there are other options. We could enroll them in specialized summer camps, but those are incredibly pricey with four kids. My friends who work outside the home are even contemplating the ethics of robbing a bank just to afford childcare during the summer.
We could take trips to see grandparents, but that would mean weeks of laundry, packing, and preparing snacks. When we return home, it would take another week to manage cranky kids as they navigate basic tasks while I attempt to unpack and restock the fridge.
Playdates are another option, but that would require me to tackle the mountain of dishes from all the snack sessions and clean the guest bathroom. All of that effort for just a couple of hours of free play, during which I’ll be busy serving snacks and reminding the older kids to include the younger ones.
Honestly, none of these options sound particularly appealing.
Yet, I know that like every summer, we’ll end up on a roller-coaster ride of experiences. We’ll have fun highlights, like attending family weddings, swimming until dusk, and grilling on the weekends. But we’ll also face frustrations—endless arguments, unwanted sunburns, and chores that never seem to end.
That’s just life with a big family: chaotic, messy, and magically unpredictable. I know I’m supposed to savor every moment and make each day count, but that feels nearly impossible when I have to intervene in another argument over a coveted Lego piece and check the toilet (again).
Welcome to spring break, everyone. And get ready for a preview of summer.
This article was originally published on April 17, 2023.
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Summary: The article humorously captures the stress of planning activities for four children during spring break and the looming challenge of summer. The author reflects on the chaos of sibling rivalry, the struggle to keep kids entertained, and the balancing act of family life. Despite the struggles, she acknowledges the joy of family experiences, highlighting the unpredictability of parenting.