Spring Break Reflections: Pain, Peace, and a 5-Year-Old Dinosaur

Spring break.

Or as I like to call it—

“Hats off to the teachers… you prepared the parents and vacated the premises.”

Because nothing quite prepares you for the full-time, no-break, high-energy reality of a 5-year-old on vacation.

This year started with an 8–9 hour drive.

A cold Jersey morning slowly gave way to a warm breeze…

and eventually, the soft welcome of Carolina air.

And somewhere in between state lines and gas station stops,

I took a deep breath… and let it all out.

There’s something about a change of scenery.

It doesn’t fix everything—but it softens it.

What once felt heavy begins to fade, even if just a little.

By the time we arrived, it was 8 p.m.

And my 5-year-old?

Fully recharged.

Like… plugged into unlimited energy recharged.

Running back and forth.

Asking a million questions.

Stealing snacks like it’s a full-time job.

Causing just enough chaos to remind me—

spring break is not, in fact, a break.

And if I’m being real…

my body was not on the same page.

My fibromyalgia flare was at a 10/10.

The kind of pain that settles deep and doesn’t let go.

I was exhausted.

The kind of tired that sleep doesn’t quite fix.

I dozed off in the car like a bobblehead—

in and out, trying to find comfort where there wasn’t much.

But even in the middle of all that…

there were moments I want to hold onto.

Like the sound of my son’s laughter

as he stuck his hand out the window,

giggling as the wind pushed it back.

The way we pointed out cows while driving through small towns—

simple, but somehow special.

The constant stream of questions,

his curiosity stretching as far as the road ahead.

And my favorite—

him telling me when to take pictures of the sunset…

like he already understands how to capture beauty in a moment.

It wasn’t perfect.

It wasn’t restful.

It wasn’t pain-free.

But it was full.

Full of movement.

Full of chaos.

Full of small, meaningful moments tucked between discomfort.

And maybe that’s what this season is teaching me:

That even when my body is tired…

even when the pain is loud…

there is still something good happening.

Something worth noticing.

Something worth remembering.

Tonight, I’m holding both.

The exhaustion…

and the joy.

The pain…

and the laughter.

Because this is my life right now—

and even in the chaos…

there’s still something beautiful here 🤍