“That’s right! You don’t have school tomorrow!” I said excitedly.

It was Sunday night, Amelia’s lunch was packed, and we were winding down watching football when I remembered that she didn’t have school on Monday.

The girls would be back together on a weekday, wonder twin powers activate.

But, instead of a unicorn and waterfall, they decided to transform into a tornado and bull. The day, which I excitedly planned for, ended up exhausting, testing, and pushing my patience to panic mode.

Instead of playing, they squabbled. Rather than asking for fresh cookies, they whined for more nutella. And, instead of being okay that we missed our oil change, they cried, exclaiming that oil changes are their second favorite thing to do. Second?

I can’t say I was a non-factor in our “lets just forget about that” day. I was out of rhythm. I’m used to a new pattern with Hazel, a slower and mellower pattern.

When Hazel plays alone, she doesn’t usually get hit by her stuffed animals, telling her what’s for lunch doesn’t come with outside influences as to its desirability, and she makes choices alone.

I fed into power struggle after power struggle. By five o’clock we were all defeated. I started dinner, Hazel went to her room, and Amelia went outside to play with a ball.

When I saw Amelia, alone with the ball, it clicked. I had a hard time adjusting to the side step from our newly established, but firm, daily routine. I was muscling through the day without recognizing that it was a special one.

I went outside.

“Is this what you wanted to do sweetie?” I said softly.

With a huge smile she nodded yes. Hazel joined us and we ran around throwing a ball and giggling.

We all have expectations and can get caught up in the predictable nature of life when it is consistent and less chaotic. I learned to stop on our special days and be more spontaneous. It isn’t just another day; it’s a day off. I need to remember that.