This household is constant. Testosterone flies back and forth with nerf gun fights and super hero dolls being chucked across the room. Correction... Action figures. One kid has homework, one has a broken leg, and the baby is hungry. Ironically the broken legged three year old tends to need to poop at the same time the baby is hungry. What are the odds? It's insane. It's beautiful, but it's insane.
Little boys need constant entertainment... that is, if you want to keep them from tearing your house down to the bare studs. I grew up with a sister. We didn't tear the walls down! We merely tore your souls down with our words. Much easier...
** love you, mom. **
...So... Spring break was fun.
** for them.**
For the parents it's a little more like:
"Um... no... you absolutely may not drag your broken legged brother around the house by a costume boa."
"HOW did you two POSSIBLY empty every DAMN dresser drawer in the time it took me to grab the mail?!"
"Is that your brother's valentine's candy on your face?... Where have you even been hiding that?!"
"No. No you can not have any of mommy's ice cream. Daddy got that for her to keep her sane. It is strictly for after you are all in bed... Yes, I know I'm mean."
It was fun. It was fun and now it is done. Back to the normal routine.
And it's all a blur. Another annual spring break down from their speedy little childhoods. Another two month old moment that I will never have again with any more of my kids. It just keeps ticking away, moving louder and faster by the day. Louder and faster... and just as precious as any moment before.