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Telling Tales: How the other half lives during spring break

Becky Andrews and Angel Kane • Updated Mar 19, 2017 at 12:00 PM

Spring break is upon us. And the “us” I’m talking about is the collective group of parents who, yet again, did the unthinkable. As usual, our children are going nowhere. A fact that you would think, by now, wouldn’t surprise them. 

We are not spring breakers. But that’s OK. Because what we are, are spring cleaners. 

So for the next two weeks while most other families are sunning and surfing, skiing and socializing, the Kane children will be otherwise occupied. 

Nothing makes me happier than spring cleaning. Out with the old, in with the new. Baseboards will shine, Tupperware will be organized and all those socks will finally find their match. Who needs sand, surf and all-you-can-eat shrimp buffets, when you can spend your days reorganizing closets?

And should you see my children at Walmart making a resupply run, don’t let them fool you. They love it just as much as I do.

That glazed look they might give you is nothing more than a Pine-Sol stupor, because at our house we go old school. While “green” may be all the rage, unless it smells like over-powering chemicals burning a hole through your lungs, we don’t consider it clean. 

Sure, we may not have those beachside photos or ski resort photo ops, but we make our own memories just the same. And just because we don’t choose to flaunt them on social media doesn’t make them any less fun. Because in my book, fun begins and ends with a toothbrush, a room filled with dirty grout and my two children and I making it shine. 

Of course, when the school doors reopen after break, our children are always more excited than most to be back at school. Do I take it personally? Not a bit. 

You see, growing up, I was one of those children who always went to the beach for spring break. Gulf Shores, Ala. was our family’s destination of choice. Dad would load us up; Mom would have sandwiches made for the 10-hour car ride, and off we would go. My favorite stop along the way was Stuckey’s and Shoney’s. Once we got to the beach, my brother and I would build sand castles and play in the waves day in and day out. Day in and day out. Day in and day out.

Until we finally returned home burned to a crisp, sand within every crevice of our station wagon and ready to murder each other.  

It’s how the other half lives. 

No thank you. I’ll take clean grout and matching socks any day.

Comments? You can email Angel Kane at tellingtales@lebanondemocrat.com. Angel Kane and Becky Andrews are the brains behind Telling Tales, a weekly column in The Lebanon Democrat.

 

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