It is day one of real Spring Break. The weekend was not-fun-ish, but did not feel like the dreaded SB. Husband was helping a friend move most of Saturday, and I got this ridiculous idea that spring dress sandals needed to happen THAT VERY DAY. It turned out ok, somehow I managed to get not only dressy shoes for the twins, but also play/school sandals as well! In under an hour, which is an honest
to goodness miracle.
Sunday was fine. Except the dress sandals have "room to grow" (it's only March, and they'll be expected to wear them well into September) and well, High Maintenance Squirt made another debut- complaining about the largeness/uncomfortableness of the shoes and also the "room to grow" spring dresses. I was banging my head against a wall for a while there. At the end of Sunday, Little Man started breaking out in hives, and getting an around-the-mouth rash, which sent me into the ever enjoyable ALLERGY PANIC. (Also: we ran out of Benadryl, which is stupid when you have a kid that seems to be allergic to everything under- and above- the sun) He is either severely sensitive to grass (most likely) or allergic to strawberries (less likely, but just the idea freaks me out)
So here we are! Day one of Actual Spring Break. I had migraine problems last night. It is odd for me to have to take a second dose of migraine solver medicine, and that was disconcerting when I finally convinced myself to get out of bed at 3am (... Or 2am? ) to get another dose.
I was saving the new Popsicle mold for summertime fun, but I whipped that out by 10am in desperation.
I am now determined to stay on this couch at all costs. Which involves more than a fair amount of kid's shows on in the background. Leaving me with my THOUGHTS. My miserable thoughts.
I was nervous about last Friday's meeting with the school's speech pathologist. It did not go anywhere near what I'd expected, and days later I am still reeling.
The determinations were not at all epic or "life changing," but just that little confirmation that SOMETHING is a wee bit wrong throws me into incoherent arm flailing. I am firmly trying not to fret and over analyze it. Sorry to be vague, but I have talked the issue to an early retirement with Husband and my Mom. (Obviously, one of the pillars of excellent writing is writing about things you're already tired of talking about)
Somehow, perhaps just to keep myself from growing into the couch fibers, I got this absurd notion that I needed to clean out the children's closets. Spring is here! We won't be needing the fleece pajamas- and we need the drawer real estate for this season's batch of summer pjs. So I ended up packing away all the hardcore winter goods and having to make a stack of clothing the girls have grown out of. This was definitely un-fun; looking at perfectly good, "recently" purchased items that we can never use again, and boxing them up to send to other girl-twin families. It's all so FINAL. (and expensive) I do count myself lucky as there were quite a few things from last summer that still totally fit my petite pixies. I take the small victories. Still, I look at those nearly organized dressers and feel like I deserve an extra... something (diamonds?) for doing all that work after the kind of day I've had. Organizing under duress, essentially.
SPRING BREAK: Remember when we used to look forward to this?!