Your typical weekend morning. Hot coffee, kids goofing off, washing machine running, TV on. I’m looking at the pile of clean dishes ready to be put away, the mountain range of laundry – some to be folded and sorted, some to be washed, all to be managed. I’m looking at the to-do list – get soccer snacks, finish out book fair paperwork, finalize Halloween costumes, call the guy about the thing, email about this and text about that … and husband wonders “what should we *do* today?”
Me: Umm, there’s plenty to do around here.
Him: No, I mean do something. Like go somewhere. Like do something.
Me: …. okay ….
but with little or no enthusiasm because while it sounds super fun to do something, what actually sounds so much better is doing absolutely nothing – or my version of nothing, which is piddling around the house putting away this and that, moving things from point A to point B, and repeatedly cleaning the kitchen all day long after every snack and meal. So that at 7 pm, when I’m ready to really do nothing, my feet are up and my kitchen is clean.
But then the guilt: will my children’s childhood memories be filled with watching a movie on the couch with mom, who is falling asleep with her readers on from the sheer exhaustion of having done all.the.things day in and day out? Or will we make memories on a twilight hike and a plate of chicken fingers from a nearby dining establishment? Let’s wait and see.