It’s the weekend.

On the way home from school we went to Starbucks for a 1/2 price Frappuccino  and then stopped to watch the airplanes take off.  One of our favorite stops, me and the Pickle.

I love weekends.

Being a stay at home mom, my weekends seem to be the opposite of mainstream weekendry.  For me (and maybe you, too), weekends mean:

  • Someone is home besides me… and P.
  • Turning off the alarm.
  • I don’t have to have eyes in the back of my head for 9 hours.
  • I probably won’t clean much… or cook, if I can avoid it.
  • Napping on the couch with my husband.
  • Seeing my child delight in going to her Sunday school class.
  • Loud, unrestrained, heart-cleansing worship.
  • Sunday dinner at the inlaws (read, 5 more sets of eyes to watch the Pickle so mine can take a break)

So basically, even though I’m home most of the week anyways, when 3 o clock on Friday hits, I am still breathing a deep sigh of relief.  The sky is bluer.  The grass is greener.  The house is cozier.

And for 48 hours there is a slight chance that I may actually get a shower in.


2 thoughts on “Weekend.

  1. I used to love fruited jello and haven’t had it in years. Now I’m going to make some soon, so thanks to your grandma for reminding me!

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