The Tale of Spring Break in Ohio

woman in shoe

Once upon a time there was a mother who lived in a little house with her husband and her children. They had plenty to eat and lived a nice, modest little life. Then one day, an event occurred. It was something that came around every year and mothers all over the land would shudder in fear of it. It was called “Spring Break” because of, certainly, all the spirits of mothers that were broken during that fateful week.

Some years were better than others; however, this year was the most dark and dismal this mother had ever known. The children, let to run amok from their schools, had nothing to do. They were bored and everyone knows that boredom is something that can only be cured by expensive excursions or sunshine. Neither of those things were happening. The sky turned dark gray and the sun was no where to be found. It probably went to the Dominican Republic with its father because it was his turn to have the sun for spring break, as stated in the custody agreement.

The children’s iPads and iPods and Nintendos and televisions and Playstations and Legos and Wii games and expensive American Girl dolls and dogs that were bought for them and art supplies could not quench their boredom. And the rain fell without stop upon the gray, muddy land so the children were forced to stay inside. And the days bled into the nights because, for one, there was no sunshine so it was hard to tell the difference between day and night. For two, there was no school in the morning so the children would make excuses for staying up late into the night so they could continue complaining about being bored.

When the well meaning mother suggested that the children clean their rooms, the children said that they would do it and then would instead sit on the floor in a pile of Easter candy and increase the amount of wrappers lying around in defiance.

When the well meaning mother suggested that the children read a book for entertainment, they would gnash their teeth and their eyes would roll back into their heads. They would stomp back to their bedroom/lairs to devour more candy even after the mother said dinner would be ready relatively soon.

And the days became grayer and bleaker. It seemed the sun no longer existed and the rain fell, not in sheets, but in a gross mist that felt like the angels in heaven were blowing raspberries or simply spitting on her.

The food soon ran low and the husband began working double shifts at work so he wouldn’t have to hear the children (or the mother) complain.

So the mother began playing a game to keep her sanity called “Coffee or Wine” where she would begin the day drinking coffee. When the cup was empty, she would look at the clock and ask herself, “Is it too early for wine?” If it was, she would have more coffee. If it was an appropriate time to drink wine, she would do that instead. The “appropriate time for wine” came earlier and earlier in the day until finally the wine ran out.

And the kids were still bored.

And the baby wouldn’t stop crying.

And the husband was at work.

And the rain fell and fell from the gray, gray sky.

And did I mention they were out of wine?

So she killed everyone and the husband lived happily ever after.

The end.

Ha. Ha. Just Kidding. If I really needed to say that for you, you should probably go away. 😦

My daughter has been bugging me for about a year to read a book that she loves called Land of Stories by Chris Colfer… you know, the guy who played Kurt on Glee? Well, I finally started reading it. It definitely is a book for kids. And I spend my entire day with kids. And I watch kid television shows most of the day. And did I mention they are out of school for the week and it’s been raining since what seems like the beginning of time? And I’m all by myself with them and the baby won’t stop crying?

And the book is about fairy tales…. so that’s why you get this.

And you know it’s a stupid fairy tale because I let the husband live happily ever after. Hah! I’d take my lazy ass and all my damn kids to the store in the rain for more wine before I’d let that happen.

The end.

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