Cabin-Spring Fever

We’ve all got a baaaaaaad case of spring fever over here at my house.  My plumber of a husband has only one more week of classes before he is finished for the summer and officially becomes a fifth year plumbing apprentice.  Which means a-) more money and, even more importantly, b-) only one more year in the apprenticeship program.  Yee-haw.

My kidlets have only two more weeks of school left, in which we are going to tackle pronouns, take two field trips, read Old Yeller together, and endure a massive year end review (note to self: write up massive year end review.)  The bad news is that none of us have any real desire to do most of the things on that list.  So there will be much coercion and bribery happening around these parts.

Besides the whole spring fever ailment, my family is also suffering from cabin fever brought on by the incessant rain.  Days and days and days of rain.  So. Much. Rain.  (I’m beginning to think we may have to build an ark.  They sell kits down at the Home Depot, right?)

If you put these two afflictions together my family has cabin-spring fever.

Symptoms of cabin-spring fever in the four year old include the child plastering herself to the backyard door moaning, “Why can’t I go outside?  Why? Why is there so much rain?  Why? Whyyyyyyy?”  If symptoms worsen the four year old may use an actual screwdriver to pick the lock on the backdoor so she can escape into the rain, forcing the Mommy to drag her whiny, muddy bum back into the house while she shrieks, “Come back Sun!  I need you!”

Symptoms of cabin-spring fever in the eight year old daughter manifest itself with repeated use of the phrase, “I’m so bored!  There’s nothing to do here!”  With or without petulant foot stomping.  When the eight year old is informed of an entire list of activities she could pursue she will then deem each and every one of them as either “babyish” or “stupi- I mean silly!” while she proceeds to pout her little heart out. Exert herculean control and don’t laugh at her sulky actions, as then all hell will break loose, and the eight year old will dissolve into tears, wailing, “You hate me!  I’m telling God on you!”

Cabin-fever in the nine year old, will present itself in a dastardly pattern.  First, there will be frenzied Harry Potter mania.  Not only in reading the books but in the watching of movies.  Second, the child will engage in fake wand carrying and the pretend hexing of sisters.  (Which will NOT be well received, for the record.)  Third, the nine year old will expound, at great and considerable length, on his theories behind Snape’s dislike of Harry or the source of Voldemort’s power.  These theories will usually be presented through a closed door while you are in the bathroom,  or when you are trying to navigate your way through the rain in a mini-van whose windshield wipers have seen better days.

Husbands are not immune to cabin-spring fever either.  Their common sense becomes seriously compromised and they may start making reckless comments such as, “Wow, this house is so cluttered.  Maybe someone should do something about that,” followed with a pointed look at the Wife.  (Ladies, attempt to remember it is the cabin-fever disease talking and he is not in his right mind before you retort with a scathing “Well, maybe when you are out of school you can do something about it!  And by the way, would it kill you to change the windshield wipers on the car every once in a while?  Do you WANT to see us all dead in a ditch somewhere?  DO YOU?”)

All in all, I ask for your prayers and thoughts that we can survive this vicious disease and that everyone may emerge unharmed, in their right mind, and happily married.  Or, possibly, just pray that it can Stop! Raining! sometime this month.  Either one would be appreciated.

This entry was posted in Homeschooling, musings, The Big Girl, The Boy, The Little Girl. Bookmark the permalink.

8 Responses to Cabin-Spring Fever

  1. Katie says:

    Are you coming over here for a field trip? That would be fun!

  2. Mindy says:

    Girl, let go of your to-do list for school and go play in the rain! Or go to the dollar movies. Or make four different batches of cookies. In the same day.

    I’m just trying to help. I don’t think they let you blog from jail.

    • bunkersdown says:

      Good point about that jail thing. Although baking might actually push me over the edge into homicide. But we are letting a lot of stuff go, and the field trips should go off without a hitch. At least in my head, they should.

  3. I don’t know how long it takes the weather to get from me to you, but make a game plan because the rain hasn’t stopped here, either. Utah is about to float away. In fact, we might end up in your back yard. As much as I’d love to be your neighbor, that might not go over so well if my house has floated a different direction. To add to our distress, the dog must go out to potty, and then comes in wet, stinky, and sometimes muddy. Just as the stench begins to disperse, it’s time for her to go out again. And she’s a BIG dog, mind you. They call them a Mastif, it’s simply misspelled for Massive! Anyway, I feel your pain. I’m not homeschooling, but I’ve got two off track right now that are home and I have to keep them busy. Then the teenagers arrive home and the taxi mom takes over. UGH. We will survive this….right?

  4. whitney says:

    About your second born: my mom, after listing a number of things for us to do and having them each shot down and kicked, would conclude out loud, “Well then, [if you can’t find anything to do] you must be dumb.” Perhaps not the best avenue, but it certainly sounds like something my mother would do! I don’t think I can answer conclusively as to this method’s effect…what does that imply about me? I’m not sure.

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