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What’s your ideal Saturday morning? Are you doing those things this Saturday morning? Why not?


Up until about, oh, a year ago, I used to live my ideal Saturday morning every weekend.  These days, though, I haven’t had an ideal Saturday morning in months.

I would sleep in, and when I finally awoke around 10 or 11 a.m., I’d make a large pot of strong, black coffee, and feed the dogs.  Then I’d return to bed with the dogs and a cup of coffee and read for about an hour.  Eventually, usually at the prompting of Will, I would shower and clean myself up, and we’d make our way to the Farmers’ Market, where I would drink more strong, black coffee and sit at a table and people watch for about half an hour until getting up to buy food for the week.  (Getting a table at the Farmers’ Market on Saturday morning is really difficult, so ideally, I’d have one reserved for me, ready to go, so I wouldn’t have to hover and creep people out).  If it was any other season than winter, we’d bike to the Farmers’ Market and back.  Once home, we’d put away the food and make lunch from our purchased goods.  Then I’d probably return to drinking coffee and reading books with the dogs curled up around me.

But as I said, I haven’t had one of those in months.  Why?  Because that was our life BC: before children .  They ruin your life in the best way possible.

Now, I get up at 7 or 8 a.m. (Waaaahhh, I have completely lost my ability to sleep in), so that I can get in a shower before the dogs and child wake up.  I still make a large pot of strong, black coffee but no longer for pleasure.  It’s a necessity to keep my eyes open and my brain alert.  I feed the dogs AND the child, and instead of returning to bed to read, I try to entertain the child in her highchair long enough for me to quickly check Facebook and email.  Then we’re off running for the rest of the day.  We usually do still make it to the Farmers’ Market a couple of Saturdays a month.  But no more people watching – I’m now on toddler watch all the BLOODY TIME.

I’m going to admit something here that isn’t too pleasant.  Somedays,  I really hate parenting.  I would like to just quit, and go back to being child free.  I had one of those days yesterday. as a matter of fact.  Thankfully, I have a very understanding husband, who sent me to my room for the night and took care of the toddler.  I spent the night watching Netflix on the iPad with the dogs sleeping on the bed with me.  It was glorious.  I hate to admit that I can’t handle it.  I feel like I should be able to handle it.  But there are days when I just can’t.

I am an introvert, and I need “me time” in order to function, almost as much as I need food and water.  However, even as I write this, I know there will be a day when I am child free again, when the foster toddler has moved on, and even though I will get to have my ideal Saturday mornings again, they will be filled with a bitter-sweetness, a tinge of sadness.  Perhaps a new ideal Saturday morning will then emerge.