Sunday, January 22, 2012

What I love about Sundays

If you've crossed my path lately, I probably resemble one of "those" mothers...you know what I'm talking about....one of the ones that I just KNEW I'd never be.  Frazzled, harried, dirty and tired. 

First of all, the husband's place of employment has so nicely deemed that THEY need him more on Saturdays than I do.  I tend to disagree, but alas, I do what I need to do.  Yesterday, it was dragging four children to the 6-yo's basketball game during a monsoon, where I had to park in the furthest possible parking spot and be soaked to the bone by the time I had gotten all of them and their gear from the car into the gym. 

Second, the husband and I made a joint decision that he must obtain an evening MBA.  Are we crazy?  Certifiably.  Are we just plain stupid?  Without a doubt.  But, all for the greater good and we really can't imagine things getting any easier as the kids get older.  I certainly need him home when this homework gig gets to be more than my tired brain can handle.  He is soooo doing the science fair projects.  And I have a feeling that we'll be dividing and conquering evenings in a few years.  So, it was now or never and we chose now. 

Add these two "adjustments" in with a rainy, bitterly cold weekend in which we were stuck inside (save the rainy trip to the basketball game) which resulted in a slow and tedious destruction of my house...I was in serious need of some "me" time by Sunday.

So, Sunday morning, I got out of bed, enjoyed a cup of coffee and announced to the family that I would be back.  I was going for a run.  I'm still easing back up my running regimen, so I was only supposed to run for 25 minutes, but let me tell you that I enjoyed every single second of the 1500 that I was out there.  I ran like a kid who had nothing better to do all day than to run.  I pushed all thoughts out of my head and turned on a Pandora station playing new hits that I have never heard of.  By the time I got home, my head was clear and my heart was pounding. 

Now, I told my husband, I am going to the grocery store.  He smiled and asked me if I'd like to have anyone come with me.  And as much as I love taking a "helper" with me on the weekends, I firmly shook my head no.  This trip was MY trip.  I leisurely strolled around the store, basking in the fluorescent lights and kicking myself for not driving the extra 5 miles to the big store that serves latte and breakfast.  I took my time picking out my produce without having to worry about the free cookie, I strolled through the cereal aisle without having to say "no" to sugary cereals and I stood in the check-out line, flipping through a trashy magazine, almost disappointed that the wait was not a little big longer. 

I arrived back at home with my healthy grocery bags and was welcomed by complete mayhem.  The baby caught sight of me and started crying, the 2-yo clung to my leg and the 4-yo whined about losing a game of uno to the 6-yo, who tossed a basketball by my head unexpectedly.  I calmly unpacked the groceries and announced that I was now going to church.  By myself.  For the first time since the baby was born. I kissed the kids and left them downstairs to take a nice, hot shower.   

I walked into church, relishing the quiet, calm traditions of it all and said some prayers - thankful for my four healthy little boys who have so much energy and their sweet dad who works so hard for us. 

I drove home in a way too quiet car and happily opened the door to a messy kitchen, cheers for the basketball game and happy yelps of "mommy! mommy! mommy!"as I was greeted by my family.

A run, some "shopping", a shower and some religion.  My husband asked me if I felt like I was on vacation.  Yep, I sure did.  And it was a right quick one.  But sometimes that is all you need.

No comments:

Post a Comment