I remember the days of lazy pajama-clad mornings, running into town in the afternoon just because, tackling an outdoor project when the weather was perfect. Refresh. Recharge. Rest. Weekend bliss.
I miss those days.
My weekends are hard. Packed full of cleaning and catching up. Consumed with activity in short bursts between feeding hungry mouths, playing referee amongst the kiddos, and finding the sweet spot of perfect sleepiness to achieve naptime success. No matter what we do or where we go, our weekends are just anything but restorative.
My logical brain tells me that in just a few short years, my wee ones won't need us to carve out time for a nap, and the necessity of constant supervision will lesson. I know we will master potty training...eventually.
Rational me realizes that this time of wrangling kids and watching Saturday and Sunday breeze by before blinking is short. The mom in me delights in the time I get to see my kids since I work during the week, truly.
But the tired me leaves work on Fridays to race to martial arts class, knowing the weekend insanity has only begun. Late for class, dinner on the run, notice a gray hair (ahhh!), disaster of a house that finally couldn't keep up with life for five days, cranky husband because he's done it all the whole week and needs a mental break from children, finally bedtime...and then, the worst: Grocery shopping. By myself. On Friday night. At 8pm. I'm worn out after the stress of a busy week. I'm hungry because there is no food left in my house by this time in the week except whole milk (sometimes) and coffee creamer (can't run out of that). But there is a task to be done.
And so I trudge to the store. Inevitably I am in the longest line, the slowest people before me. I'm cut off in the parking lot, the gas station lanes are full, and I close my eyes and whisper those words: "Fridays hate me."
Sure, I could go for groceries on Saturday morning. By myself with all three kids after breakfast. But by then I'm knee deep in dirty floors and scrubbing bathrooms, hopefully needing a shower after a 20 minute workout while the children are trying to do everything possible to hurt each other...or trying to climb on top of me while I plank. :) Yes, Saturdays are an option for groceries after the sleeping bear awakens and showers...slowly. Then we've spent the whole morning gone at the store, rushing back to make food, and before I know it, the twins are up from nap, and it's 3pm. My day is gone and I'm awfully behind. Ahhh the life.
And so Fridays it is. (Sigh)
For parents of young kiddos, weekends are a challenge. (Or maybe I'm alone here in my troubles...if so, please don't tell me you have it perfect or I might just cry)
For my family, there's always a bit of readjustment. The dynamic of two parents at home, expectations on both sides. A house to clean from the last week and prep for the next. Kids who literally want nothing more than to climb all over mommy and daddy. Work to be done, and lots of it, but no agreement on how much to do, who does it and when it gets done. Church is a delightful reprieve, but the circus to ready the kids to leave and the inevitable craziness of the morning leaves me exhausted, again, by mid-day. By Sunday night I never feel like I'm ready for the week. I don't feel like I spent enough time with the kids, even though I've been home. To be frank, I feel anything but refreshed.
Can you tell my weekend attitude has taken a nose dive of late?
So in true Carrie fashion, I have decided recently to confront my troubles head on. Why am I complaining when I have quite possibly the most patient and helpful husband I know? Why am I complaining about a life that is incredibly rich in love and family and friends? Why am I complaining in the midst of extra responsibilities and commitments that I not only asked for, but actually enjoy?
I am blessed beyond measure. And I'm also kind of a mess. :)
I can't continue hating Fridays.
What I need is a weekend revival. Small, consistent choices to notice the blessings instead of counting my frustrations. Appreciating the cashier who price matches even though I forgot my list. Being thankful for one hour of naptime freedom to plant some flowers in a long-neglected yard.
Intentional decisions to value my days, no matter the stress or trouble.
And then I had a weekend like this one. A powerful reminder of just how fantastic my life is. And why those little blessings along the way are important to seek out.
Color run with fun gals who make me laugh and embrace the mess. Purchased tickets to Wicked for my NYC birthday trip one month from tomorrow. Afternoon with kids who helped me vacuum and played in the laundry baskets that I emptied. Endless laughing at a twin who couldn't stop saying, "where's my fart gun?" (Seriously, this is my life with 4 boys and an obsession with Despicable Me 2). Stay-in date night with popcorn, pjs and seasons of Smallville. Sunday morning with cartoons and a happy family that miraculously was not late to church (for once).
And, most importantly, sharing in the joy today of watching my Sam get baptized in front of family and friends. Faith in a God who saves us, makes sense of the mess, and gives us hope.
All you weary ones, wishing that your weekends were a little more refreshing...take heart. I don't know about you, but I tend to see what I'm looking for. Anticipating overwhelming stress? That's what I see. But if I search out the blessings, I always find an abundance. What about you?
Seek, and ye shall find.
