Last year we had a very short, one week Christmas break and we all groaned and complained and so they gave us two weeks.  Which we are calling Small Summer.  Even though it’s freezing and snowy and the pool is frozen solid.  Two weeks looms large at the start, but it’s swallowing us right up with it’s long days of hot cocoa and friends over and mystery trips.  Their favorite so far was treasure hunting, which it actually just antiquing with a fancy label.  I give them each a fiver and something to hunt for (a star! miniatures! something that glows!) and set them free with the warning that if they touch ANYTHING they will be wearing mittens for a week.  The teenagers love this.  The smell, the dust, the used everything. They love this so much they opted to stay in the car and snap about how dumb everything is.

And so break rolls along.  Lucy has worn her hat day and night for three days. Abe got a shirt with Mac n cheese on it for Christmas and hasn’t taken it off since. The tree came down the day after Christmas because by then I. am. over. it. and the kids used a can of gas and small matches to burn it in the yard yesterday.  Today no one has eyebrows and all evidence of Christmas is gone.  See ya.  Lucy had ten dollars burning a hole in her pocket and Peter discovered last night that I’d mistakenly bought crunchy peanut butter, which is the worst thing ever.  So I loaded kids up and took them for a late night Meijer run where I saw all my Shipt shoppers and wondered aloud about a branch of Shipt that involved people in green shirts coming to your house, picking up your kids and taking them shopping.  I would pay almost anything for that service.  Especially when someone has ten dollars to spend.  In aisles where nothing they want costs ten dollars. I nearly lost my soul.

The dogs continue to steal packages and run away.  Every Vos Small is outside as I type trying to earn ten bucks by finding the curtain hardware that was delivered yesterday.  It’s brass and beautiful and they must have loved it because they hid it well.  Also, they clearly have more bite strength than I give them credit for.  I have fed more kids this break than a soup kitchen and I’ve loved nearly every second of it.  If you are a social worker or work for CPS, Kindly stop reading.  Abe…he’s not nearly as disregulated as he normally is during the holidays.  But he has itchy balls.  And so his hands are constantly down his pants.  He is not our first child to engage in self-exploration.  Last time we followed the doctors directive to ignore it and let it run it’s course, which it did after years of embarrassing mishaps (oh gosh, he/she is doing it on stage! Not in church! I know it’s your company picnic, but Dr. Meier said not to shame him/her!).  Last time we followed the rules.  We will not make this mistake again.  So last night as I was shelving peanut butter and wiping sweat out of my bra, dan saw Abe, you know.  And so he responded with love and logic…”Abe, if you keep touching your penis it will come off and stick to your hand.  Then when break is over and you go to the cafeteria, you will ask the lunch ladies for a cheeseburger and they will see your penis hand and say, ‘Gross! No food for you!!'” I found this a very healthy way to handle the situation and have noticed he has kept his hands out of his pants since.  Also, he no longer likes cheeseburgers.  For those of you concerned that we actually said these words to our adopted son who has food issues, not to worry; he laughed as hard as we did.

Welcome back CPS and social workers.  For all you mamas who are planning fun activities every day-you are killing it.  For you mamas who are drooling on the couch, sure you can’t last another hour-you will.  You will rise and you will make all the cocoa for all the kids and it will be fantastic.  This is your hour.  Christmas break is our bone and we are sucking the marrow out of it.  Well done.

this is me being real.


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