Sunday Morning

I’m enjoying an old-school Sunday morning. Back in the day, I’d roll out of bed, shuffle downstairs, make a cup of tea and do nothing, or anything, basically whatever I felt like doing. So far I’ve channel surfed, read a couple chapters of a book, and basically just been unproductive and lazy.

These days, I’m woken up in the vicinity of 6:30am, rustled out of bed, begged to go downstairs before I’m good and ready, then I make a sippee cup of hot chocolate milk BEFORE my tea, click on the TV tuned to Phineas and Ferb, and then I field a series of suggestions, requests and demands in rapid succession by someone half my size. For the entire day.

Last night was an old-school Saturday night. The kids had a sleep over with their grandmother. She picked them up just before my head exploded. So off we went to a friend’s birthday party. We ate, we drank, we socialized, we laughed a lot. These were old-school friends. Friends I’ve known for over 10 years. Pre-kids. We talked and joked about all the old things, things like work, travel, body hair and poop (you’d be surprised how much we talk about this). And we even talked about some new things; new homes, Brazilian waxes and body hair.

My favorite part of my night? Spending time with people who don’t need anything from me. Especially spending time with my husband. He’s nice. He’s handsome. He’s pretty funny. He gets me. And I like him. I like to talk to him. I like to listen to him talking with other people. I like to get a stolen kiss. I like that we are sitting on the couch right now with our respective electronics just sharing this space. Quietly.

Basically, I like the opportunity to choose who gets my undivided attention. Once you have kids, that changes. Or your appreciation for it changes. Most of the time, my kids get my attention, they demand it, steal it, they own it undeniably because I love them and I think and worry about them even when I’m not with them. But sometimes I can get a few moments to step back and enjoy the good ole things. I get a chance to remember why I fell in love with my husband. I get a chance to be silly with old friends.  I get a chance to foster new friendships. Back to school is good for that. And when my angels come home off the bus and don’t sass me. I give them stolen kisses and we talk about work, school, (lately we've been talking about body hair!) and sometimes, we even talk about poop.