Hit and Run weekends

Last Friday, another mom friend of mine actually said, “Thank God it’s Friday” as she was picking up her son from school. I blinked in disbelief and started at her in surprise.  Now that I’m a parent, there’s no earthly reason to rejoice about an upcoming weekend. “Why?” I asked incredulously. She paused and laughed, “Actually, I don’t know why. I guess it’s just habit. It’s not as if our weekends are relaxing or anything. Or fun…”

My point exactly. Ever since I became a mom, Saturdays and Sundays are just days that I now have to entertain my bored kids on top of all the other crap I have to do.  Or worse, hit the endless birthday party circuit after karate lessons and grocery shopping and cleaning the house and doing laundry. In my childless days, I used to sleep in until noon after staying out late. I had a leisurely late lunch and ran some errands. I hung out with friends and even saw movies. There used to be down time and me time. I used to have fun.

I’m not sure how life got to be so full of things I had to do without enough time to do them. And the housework expands exponentially when everybody is home. I’m the only XX chromosome in the house, so trying to pick up after a family of boys (all children actually) is like shoveling the walkway during a blizzard. It’s ultimately futile, but you have to make the attempt. My husband is a huge help, but between the two of us, we’re still scrambling around frantically. Most of the time, we divide and conquer since the two boys are so far apart in age and have different needs. My six-year-old has his own very busy social calendar with birthday parties and karate lessons and homework. My 15-month old tires easily and still naps twice a day. It’s not always possible to schlep him to everything so we have to accommodate both of them. I’m actually relieved when Monday rolls around again.

Someday, maybe when the boys are grown, I’ll reclaim my weekends again as a time to relax and rejuvenate and to see my husband. But I can only foresee them getting exponentially crazier as Asher grows up and hits his own birthday circuit and has his own sporting events and activities.  I’ll wave to my husband from my car and see him in 18 years.