The best part of the weekend is the knowledge that each day belongs entirely to us.
During the week, our mornings are so hurried. Get up! Breakfast! Where’s your other sock? GET YOUR SNOWPANTS ON WE’RE LAAAAAAATE. It’s true of most households, I’m sure, but it’s exhausting.
During the week, our evenings are so short. Homework! Dinner! Go play for 45 minutes so I can work out. Bedtime! There is so rarely any time for us to do the things we want to do, spend time together and just be.
Thanks to my own neglect, I was awoken at 5:35 am by my weekday alarm. Oops. I laid in bed listening to traffic until I dozed off again. When I awoke again at 7:45, I thought about getting up and starting my chores for the day. Or at the very least, getting up and making a gigantic cup of hot, delicious, magical, wonderful coffee. And then I heard it.
Good morning, Mama!
Seconds later, F climbed into my bed with me. We laid snuggling for quite some time without speaking. My to-do list melted away. The need to get out of bed dissipated. We talked about his night with his dad. We talked about what we would do with our day. And I realized that these perfect moments are limited.
I’ve already lost standing with him at the playground in the morning before school. I’ve lost kisses goodbye. I’ve lost – not by anyone’s choice but sheer size – carrying him on my shoulders.
It used to feel like such a burden when he needed to nurse and I was in the middle of a task or I was tired. It felt like a chore even just a couple of months ago to park, walk and wait every morning – making me late for work every day. I begrudged lifting him onto my shoulders so many times, wishing he’d just use the strength in his own legs to walk the last few hundred meters home. And now I miss it.
It makes me sad to know that one day, these perfect moments will be memories too. So I’m going to snuggle on Saturdays. And Sundays. And every other opportunity I’m given.