Spring break happens every year. This, I know.
Yet it somehow always manages to sneak up on me with a "Holy shit! It's almost spring break. What the hell are we gonna do with the boyz that week?" type of vengeance.
This year was no different.
Hubby and I both hate crowds, hate traffic, and hate inflated prices. Therefore, taking vacation time for spring break is definitely not high on our list of things we ever want to do. The thought of spending money to travel with millions of other families on their spring break too makes me break out in a full-body twitch.
No thank you.
So needless to say, Hubby and I are both working all week.
And no, the boyz aren't home in the Trenches, fending for themselves. (What? They know how to dial 911 and I left them a box of cereal!) (Kidding.)
As a matter of fact, they aren't even in the same state right now.
My Sis graciously offered to keep the boyz this week at her house in Connecticut.
Did you catch that?
Hubby and I are here, in Massachusetts.
Our three children? Are in Connecticut until Friday night.
And while you think we should be home doing this:
We have errands to run. A to-do list a mile long. A house to clean. Hubby still has to have a baseball practice even though his own child won't be in attendance.
And sadly, before we even get a chance to sit down and reflect how quiet it is, or how much we miss them, or how boring we are without them...
They will be back home.