It was going to be a big weekend.
My family firmly believes that weekends are proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy. And this three-day holiday was a much-anticipated treat.
Last week, my husband took Friday off after working through President’s Day. Three days stretched before us, offering a welcome break from the a long week’s work. I had plans to attend a baby shower, work around the house, and relax while Daniel looked forward to spending time with Nate. Nothing too life-changing, but we like basic, catch-up-on-sleep weekends.
The boys went to the local bounce house for the morning to spend some of the two-year-old energy. Home was blissfully quiet, especially between the blankets where I stayed. Nate burst in the door after noon, screaming “Mommy! Nate jump, slide!” Things were off to a roaring start. He’d be talking about this for days.
Lunch and naptime followed and soon we headed out to Potomac Mills to find Daniel needed work clothes. It was to be a casual exploratory mission, but we found good deals. We even had time to stop by IKEA to grab one last thing to finish the bathroom. Things were going according to plan.
But it wasn’t to last. We came home to homemade pizza and bad news. Daniel’s boss said that he was needed all day Saturday - no exceptions. Deadlines were approaching and he had to be there with our one car, leaving all plans thrown to the side.
Oh, it was ugly. I was mad. Capital M, capital A, capital D.
Unfortunately, mad didn’t change anything. He went to work in the morning, and I stayed home with Nate. That night, the same message came in. Sunday, he went to work and we stayed home.
I admit it, I stayed upset for a while. I wanted to see friends, do something fun. And in the end, that didn’t happen. Emails were sent, apologies given. Life shifted. Good friends adjusted. And like all things that aren’t pleasant, it ended. The deadline passed, and this weekend, thankfully, has been normal.
That’s just the way things are sometimes: you clean up the vomit, the water disaster, the ruined plans. And it ends. It’s good to be reminded of that.
But I still want my weekend back.