Spring Break: Day Whatever, and I Am Now Accepting Applications for a Stunt Double 

I would like to begin by saying that I love my boys infinity times infinity. I would fight a bear for them, advocate until my voice gives out, and move heaven and earth to meet their needs. I would also like to have a quick word with whoever invented spring break. Not the teachers; they deserve every second of their break. I am talking about the original mastermind who looked at families like ours, families built on routine, structure and predictability, and thought it would be a great idea to shut everything down for a week (or 2 weeks is some terrifying cases), and just see what happens. I have questions, and most of them have very colorful adjectives sprinkled throughout.  

This morning started the way many spring break mornings do in our house, which is somewhere between confusion and chaos with a side of immediate food requests. I had barely opened my eyes when one of my boys appeared next to my bed, fully awake, raring to go, and clearly under the impression that breakfast should have already been served. Meanwhile, I was still trying to figure out what day it was, and why the house already felt loud before the sun had even clocked in.  

I dragged myself into the kitchen, poured myself a cup of coffee, and stood there staring into the refrigerator like it might magically offer a plan for the day. Instead, it offered half a carton of oat milk creamer, a few containers of who knows what, and the harsh realization that we are only halfway through spring break. Not almost done. Not rounding the corner. Halfway. Like right in the middle of the marathon, you didn’t want to run in, where your spaghetti legs can’t carry you much further, and you are so sore it hurts to take a breath. 

Now listen, I know spring break is supposed to be fun. It is supposed to be relaxing. It is supposed to be a break. But let us talk about the myth that spring break is relaxing. Relaxing for who? Certainly not for the parents and caregivers who are running a full-time operation without the usual backup crew. The routines disappear, the therapies pause, the school day vanishes, and suddenly you’re the teacher, the therapist, the activities coordinator, the cafeteria lady, the sensory master, and the Olympic level safety officer, all rolled into one very tired person. 

Somewhere around the middle of the week, many of us start to feel like contestants on a hostile reality show called Survivor: Living Room Edition. The challenges include keeping everyone regulated, finding activities that do not cause meltdowns, and keeping those damn iPads charged! The grand prize is a quiet house and being able to actually drink a hot cup of coffee, which frankly feels way more valuable than a million dollars and a European getaway at this point. 

And let us talk about the small things that somehow turn into big events. 

Today I handed my son the wrong cup. Not the wrong drink. The wrong cup. The reaction was so dramatic that for a brief moment I considered issuing a public apology and lowering the flag to half-staff. It was a full production, complete with tears, frustration, and me standing there questioning every decision that led me to that moment. IYKYK. 

By the time we reach the halfway point of spring break, the novelty has worn off and reality has settled in. The house feels louder. The days feel longer. The energy feels lower. You may find yourself hiding in the bathroom for a few minutes of quiet, or reheating the same cup of coffee so many times that it starts to just taste like regret. You might be counting down the days until routines return, while also feeling a tiny bit guilty for wanting that so badly. 

Let me say this clearly, because someone needs to hear it. Wanting structure back does not make you a bad parent. Feeling tired does not mean you’re failing. Counting the days until school resumes does not cancel out your love. It simply means you are human, and this job is so hard.  

Sometimes success during spring break looks like ordering pizza for dinner and everyone eating without a meltdown. Sometimes it looks like five quiet minutes on the couch while your child watches Frozen or Planes for the bazillionth time. And sometimes success looks like making it through the day and realizing, the tv screen didn’t get smashed and there aren’t any new holes in the walls. VICTORY!!

You’re halfway there. Until then, stay hydrated and remember you are doing an incredible job of keeping your kids safe, fed, and well, mostly dressed (win some/lose some-pick and choose your battles).

And when this week is finally over, you will stand there, exhausted but victorious, holding a basket of laundry and thinking: I survived spring break, and all I got was this lousy load of laundry.