The Blogfathers

So how exactly to describe this past week? In some circles — circles that I’ve only observed from afar through the magic of MTV — Spring Break means drinking in Daytona, partying in Palm Springs, or cavorting in Cabo. Our week? Not quite the same.

It all started, I suppose, when I picked Alison up from school on the last Friday before break. We were standing on the sidewalk saying goodbye to one of her friends when a boy from her class — we’ll call him “Noah” — sprinted towards us, his frazzled mother trailing in his wake. Noah sneaked behind Alison, wrapped his skinny little arms around her waist, and lifted her off the ground, giggling all the while.

I’m not completely versed in the secret language of seven-year-old boys, but I think he was saying, “You complete me.”

And with that, the fun had begun. Nine days of uninterrupted family time stretched out before us like an ocean, and we were drifting in a mini-van without a paddle. Sure, we had Easter to look forward to, and we’d eventually squeeze in trips to the Santa Ana Zoo and a nearby strawberry patch, but what else would we do? How would we fill the week? How would we fill the hours of each day?

I’d like to tell you that we filled it with nothing but hugs and kisses, but you’d know I was lying. In truth, most of our days started slowly, the five us taking turns being fussy and frustrated. First it might be Alison’s complaints that her brother was looking at her, or Kate’s refusal to keep her pajamas on, or Henry’s demands for extra waffles. And all that before nine a.m.

The only relief, of course, was to release the children outside, where they could head straight for the sandbox to throw fistfuls of sand into each other’s hair and scream at the tops of their lungs. There were moments when I worried that the neighbors might be bothered, but those moments passed quickly.

But here’s the interesting thing. The farther I get from those nine days, the better they become. On Monday morning I was relieved to head off to work, and I was glad to know that Alison and Henry would be getting some much needed time apart, but three days later the tantrums and time-outs have almost been forgotten.

I know this for sure. Years from now when I look back on this break, the only thing I’ll remember will be our trip to pick strawberries at Tanaka Farms. I’ll remember how excited Henry was to ride in a wagon pulled by a tractor and how eager Alison was to find the biggest strawberries in the field. I’ll remember the taste of those strawberries, deliciously warm from a morning spent beneath the California sun, and I’ll never forget our sweet Kate as she begged like a puppy, her face red from the juice of half a dozen strawberries.

Which, I suppose, is the way it should be.

Family Fun!