Every year about this time, I become irate at the world.
Because Spring Break means nothing to me.
Nothing, I say.
While you are all out trekking the beaches, theme parks, and exotic vacation destinations of the world, I’m at home, having another normal week with my not-yet-school-aged children who have no such formalities.
I have been medicating this anger by getting cheap thrills out of dressing my children in matching or coordinating jammies…because I secretly desire to be much higher that I am on The Continuum of Match.
Some appreciate my efforts, some do not.
But you know what? Even the excitement of matching jammies is no Spring Break.
…especially when I see all of your vacation photos start rolling in on Facebook.
Oh look…they’re in The Cayman Islands!!
And a whole week of DisneyWorld? How nice for them…
FIJI?!??! How did they have time to fly to Fiji for Spring Break?!?
Okay, lest you think I have extraordinarily wealthy taste in friends, I might be exaggerating a smidge.
But you get the idea.
So, to prevent the spreading of my malice and envy throughout the blogosphere this week, and since none of you are here and reading my blog anyway since you’re, like, in FIJI, I’m giving myself a Spring Break.
I’ll be posting some long-buried, mostly-forgotten but halfway decent and possibly even entertaining reposts for the next few days – posts that are so old that 75.4% of you have never laid eyes on them. And instead of writing during naptimes, I’ll be trying to find some fun Spring Break(ish) activities to do with the kids.
(And maybe even have them in matching clothes while going about it.)
(But probably not.)
(Because that’d be weird.)
So go, enjoy your fun and frolicking, and I’ll enjoy sitting out by the freezing baby pool watching Noah’s teeth chatter from within his blue lips and will be pretending that it’s the Fijian Coast of the Southwest Pacific.
And if you’re here with me, feel free to chime in your own enmity toward the Spring Breakers of the world. Go ahead – I’ll affirm your feelings.