We decided to stay at home for Spring Break this year. Because, you know, we just can’t get enough of all the snow. Oh, and the beach would just be so crowded right now as we have been seeing pictures of all our friends frolicking in the sand with captions such as, “Finally!” and “We found paradise!”
And also it’s been great to try to come up with new activities for our children to do inside of our home that don’t involve watching Frozen (again), extreme kid wrestling, or eating copious amounts of Doritos (we bought some. so good but so bad).
It seems that we have focused our efforts on family dance parties.
Here is a throwback Thursday edition. And yes, they get all of their moves from us. Especially the Air Flute demonstration at the very end.
Here is what has been happening:
Nora got her knee stuck in the slats of her crib and I panicked when I couldn’t get it out. I screamed for Robb to come help me, and at first he didn’t hear me and then when he finally heard me, he was like, “What would you have done if I wasn’t here?” Which, of course, annoyed me because he is kind of a know-it-all and that was not being helpful at the time.
It also appears that Nora is pretty consistently in the throes of an existential crisis as in the last 20 minutes she has been; a Mommy Owl, a Baby Frog, a Moose, Me, a Puppy that could only be outside without any clothes on, and Sven the Reindeer from Frozen. She has spent her vacation; licking the bubble-blowing wand, talking in a constant stream of run-on sentences (wonder where she gets that), and using her new-found scissor skills to decorate every corner of our home with teeny tiny pieces of paper.
Grayson is working on his relationship with his iPad. It’s going really well. Well, that is until he is separated from it.
The second he sets it down he simply can’t resist the urge to do whatever it takes to make Nora want to punch him right in the face. He is usually the one who ends up crying because she is Crazy and nobody should ever mess with that girl. He also likes to say things like, “Nora, you’re a zombie, now come and eat my brains!” He only does this right after we have said, “Please don’t play zombie chase in the house.” There’s a possible short-circuit somewhere up there that we aren’t aware of, or the year of seven is just kind of glitchy. We take comfort in that fact that he sure is a nice person. He has spent his vacation making capes out of my good fabric for his stuffed animals, talking about himself in the third person, and avoiding clothes.
Robb spent the beginning of the week trying to “tie up loose ends” at work, which may or may not involve some of the biggest contracts of his life and then drinking beer for lunch and/or dinner because sometimes that’s the only way to keep the stress level at a dullish roar. We have decided that riding the wave of owning your own business involves trying to make the wave less bumpy. You can’t get too excited about the exciting stuff, so then, theoretically, you can’t get as bummed about the crappy stuff. He has spent his vacation; working, rescuing Nora’s leg from her crib, dreaming up the Ultimate Shed that just might end up being a glorified deck with a lean-to, and patiently trying to teach me how to ski (again).
I am reading Steven Pressfield’s The War of Art which is an ironic activity because the whole concept of the book is to stop doing anything else besides your art (including reading the book, The War of Art). Apparently, I need to be getting my butt up at 5 o’ clock every single day so that I can make my art my Priority in life. I don’t think I like Steven Pressfield very much, but he does have a fancy way of telling me that I need to write every day to be a writer just like every other freaking writing book out there. He somehow makes me feel a little bit guiltier than most, because if I’m not doing my art, I’m somehow losing an inner war and I really don’t like being a loser. So, I got up the last few days at 5 and now I am Very Tired. I have spent my vacation; reading about writing, being the only person in my house wearing clothes, sweeping up teeny tiny pieces of paper, and saying things like, “I am going to need more help around here because I need to focus on my art.”
And then they answer something like this,
“Don’t we have any cheese?”
“You mean the cheese you have in your hand?”
“Oh, yeah. Thanks.”