Break, as in the children have broken my will to live. Break as in, “if I am very sly, I can make a break for the border.” (Only three hours to Canada . . .) Break as in . . . how many days until I want to break something?

And this is only Monday.

My 5-year old daughter’s persistence makes us all a little crazy. She wants her brothers to play with her, to favor her, to listen to her, to defer to her. They want to get away from her, to ignore her, and on occasion, they literally sneak away from her, causing her to wail.

This morning, I was still in the bathroom, wrestling with an uncooperative contact lens when I heard a shrill scream, followed by sobbing. I knew immediately that the 10-year old had pushed the 5-year old to her limit–and sure enough, the crying was followed by very dramatic door-slamming . . . one slam, followed by a louder slam, then silence. Then, after a few minutes, another double SLAM! SLAM! She opens the door just so she came slam it like a wooden exclamation point.
I opened her bedroom door and found her face down on her bed, weeping. I said, “What’s the matter?” She cried, “Zachary is so mean to me!”

I went to his room and found him reclining pensively on his bed. I said, “Why are you so mean to your sister? She is crying on her bed, you know.”

His chin quivered and he said, “Why is she so mean to ME?”

I said, “What did she did to you?”

“She was standing too close to me, watching me play the computer. It was annoying.”

I advised him to suggest to her that she sit on a chair. That way she wouldn’t crowd him. I told her that she made Zachary cry and that she should sit on a chair if she wanted to watch.

Then I returned to my bathroom and discarded the recalcitrant contact lens and resorted to my old eye glasses.

The funny thing is that three out of four of my children are always home anyway, but adding one more child is like adding a chemical to a mixture that becomes explosive. Add harmless chemicals together–like bleach added to ammonia–and suddenly, people are passing out from the poisonous gas.

If we were like some people I know, we’d actually vacation on Spring Break, but we are not like some people I know. Alas. At least I can sleep in, sort of.