The funny thing about parenthood is when you recall your "childhood", you have no memories of the first part. You know, the baby days.
Of course I have some early memories, but I can really only recall solid history from about kindergarten on. So when I became a parent, weekends felt so unfamiliar. One day rolled into the next, and it was an endless stretch of diapers, feedings, and trying to squeeze in errands and sleep. It didn't feel restful at all.
But recently I've begun to feel some familiarity. I'm beginning to recognize some signs of "weekend" as it exists in my head.
Today Neko and Shep were on the patio. They were digging and mucking about. There was sand and shovels and water. And then suddenly it was a full-blown bakery of mud pies and cakes, and little feet darting into the kitchen to collect pans and muffins tins.
I swear they were out there for hours. Tom and I puttered around the house, cleaning and checking a few things off our lists. Entertaining Ellery, who's not quite old enough to be fully engaged.
If things keep rolling along like this, I might even find myself snoozing on the couch one of these days. I can't even begin to describe how delicious that sounds.
