That's Just How We Do

Chef boy hides in his native environment.

School starts back tomorrow, and I'm having trouble reconciling that knowledge with the fuzzy feelings of warmth that I've been nurturing this Christmas break.  They won't line up: I have to send my kids back?  There must be schedules?  Alarm clocks? 

It's too much. 

I can't rightly explain this break to you.  It has not been perfect.  Some sisters I know have gotten on each other's pretty little last nerves, and one boy in particular seemed rather cooped up.  He became very angry with me for not allowing him to swing his new tennis racket at the Christmas tree.  I think he's over it now, but what I mean to point out is that we haven't had one of those smooth-sailing, everybody-holds-hands-and-kisses-cheeks, we-all-use-our-words, nobody-resorts-to-screaming vacations.  We've had the normal sort.

The first presents.

The Christmas vacation that is imperfect.  Wild.  Headache-inducing and nap-begging.  We've had exactly the break that has seemed so frustrating and disappointing in the past.  It's terrible to admit (but hopefully peace-inducing as well) that all of this time spent with just the kids and I hovering around each other's irritations might not be as wonderful as it's cracked up to be. 

It's not like a magazine (or a Pinterest board....duh).  This is real life, and yeah: there is probably a pile of flour scattered below the kitchen counter, and specks of rock-hard play-doh clinging to the carpet. 

Donkey or horse?  Landon will never tell.

It means we had fun.  We made time, we did stuff, and some of it was awesome, and some of it was boring, and all of it was family. 

Miraculously, I'm growing and learning how to be a mom, just by being around these hooligans.  These girls who yell pasta-la-vista, baby! at the tops of their lungs, and this boy who tries to dive headfirst off the fireplace.  This sister who wants alone time and this sister who craves more people to play with.  This brother who will steal your entire blueberry waffle if you're not careful.

Adding to the blizzardish swirl.

We played and lived this Christmas break, and it was so imperfect that it made me weep during a couple of unguarded moments.  It's happy around here, sometimes in the grumpiest of ways, but it counts because it's right.  And I know sending the girls back into a schedule of school and friends and activities will be right, too, but oh--

The angel on top.

I just want my angels by my side for all of forever.  It's the greediness of a wonderful Christmas break shining through.