This morning I dragged myself out of bed, like I usually do on Saturday mornings, with sore feet. Twenty hours on your feet running, in two days would have anyone with sore feet. I sat at the dining room table as my husband sipped his coffee. The kids were already outside tearing up the driveway enjoying the first cool almost fall morning. As we watched the kids play, he muttered to me, in a heavy voice, what has to get done this weekend? Knowing that when we divide and conquer the chores we have time to chill out, I replied normal stuff, cleaning, lawn care, groceries, and gas for the car. He then said as almost an afterthought, well don’t I have to help Ryan with schoolwork first? A huge smile spread over my face, and I said no!
It seems suddenly we have weekends. Real weekends. Weekends not filled with ten to fifteen hours of homework. It’s almost hard to wrap my head around, because it has been two long years of schoolwork seven days a week. That life left me with an angry anxious kid who defied everyone just to be defiant. It left us with a family who never had a chance to do fun things on the weekend. We had to pass up invitations and events that looked fun. We rarely went to the school yard to ride scooters or go explore the Wissahickon which is spitting distance from my front door.
I know this is a honeymoon, and crisis could be around the corner for Ryan, and by association us, but I am excited to see my kid so happy. He gladly came to the grocery store with me, happily helping me with the errands. Helping pack the groceries and being careful not to push the cart into the back of my ankles. Suddenly, my very lanky almost ten year old hugged me tight in the middle of the frozen food isle, not caring who saw him. I laughed and said what was that for. He said I am so happy. I love the weekends again. It is like the summer in the fall.
We can make plans and go to events. We can work on the house. Suddenly, weekends have endless possibilities. Imagine that.