Winter Break is Precisely Fifteen Hours and 56 Minutes Too Long

At 4:34 this afternoon, I came to the profound realization that Winter Break needed to end. Immediately. The fact that at 8:30 tomorrow morning both children will be happily ensconced in their respective schools is NOT. NEARLY. SOON. ENOUGH.

For any of us.

Daughter is alternately climbing onto my shoulders to try to sit and play with my hair while I type and walking around in small circles on top of our bed chanting "I'm walking around in a circle...I'm walking around in a circle...I'm walking around in a circle...I'm walking around in a circle..."

Son is whining about the fact that I will not let him watch TV. "But I didn't get to watch TV all day," he moans.

"You already watched a whole movie and a basketball game," I respond.

"Aww...but that was this morning," he moans in a voice precisely calibrated to get on my very last nerve.

They are both whining and causing each other purposeful irritation.

Daughter, who is resourceful and (perhaps more significantly) as the second child never had my attention solely to herself, can find plenty of things to do that keep her interest. No audience necessary.

Son wants to be played with all the time. Every single minute. Preferably by me and only me. Playing with him is often fun. But in moods like this, it is simply torture. The rules are complex, and the games are not that interesting and the general point seems to be to produce annoyance. He cheats at board games and laughs that "HAW HAW!" laugh of a deranged bully in a cartoon. He takes away whatever Daughter has found that is keeping her perfectly happy to play with. He pokes and "tickles," climbs all over me, messes up Daughter's hair on purpose, plays keep away with the covers we are trying to snuggle under, turns the wooden trees from the train table scenery into aggressive missles of annoyance.

"I don't know what to do," he whines (all tones are whining this afternoon).

When I suggest puzzles, books, board games, the inflatable punching bag he got for Christmas, legos, art projects, or cooking, he moans "Nooooo," to each and every idea.

He buries his head behind my back and then shouts in a faux-panicked voice, "I can't breathe! I can't breathe! [pause; look up] What? It's funny!" And then his refrain starts again, "Can I watch TV?"

In short, he is a complete and utter pill whose only amusement right now is being as contrary as possible.

Darkness is approaching, so that I cannot send them outside to run this off -- and it is twelve degrees outside, so I couldn't have sent them outside earlier either. We did have one scare today when Daughter put on her boots and coat and took herself outside for a walk, thinking to follow me as I cared for the dog. Except I was already inside, and she was wandering down the neighborhood path towards the pond all by herself. Three years old with no mittens on in twelve degree weather. Nice. At least I panicked about her whereabouts after she'd been gone only about five minutes and we retrieved her quickly.

Those few minutes after she was home, snuggled safe on my lap, warming up, still hiccuping with a bit of panic, and drinking sips of steamed milk with spices, were lovely.

Otherwise, today? Not so much.

I think of myself as generally a creative and enthusiastic parent. But today, after two weeks of big meals, late nights, presents, visiting grandparents, sledding expeditions, I am worn out. All I want is for my two children, who are perfectly capable of entertaining themselves and each other for long stretches of time, to do so for ten continuous minutes.

But instead, they insist on occupying the same four square feet of bed as each other, and then moaning and whining that they don't have enough room, and that one won't get off the other's legs, even though the other already said please, because of course the other is "being totally annoying" and "I just want to be by myself."

"So go into your own room if you want to be alone," I snapped.

"No, I want to be alone right here, just in this exact spot. And she's always so annoying."

Now, finally, I get those ads that I never really understood when I was a child.

Calgon, take me away.

Seriously, if there's any cabin fever in your house, you MUST click this link, channel 1980, and have a good laugh.