The clock says 8:43.
I lie in my warm bed another two minutes, then swing my legs over the
edge, slip into my well-worn slippers, pull on a robe, and make my way out of
the cocoon of the room. The comforting smell
of strong coffee greets me. As I make my
way downstairs I notice that I don’t hear any noises that usually accompany the
three other people who share this house.
No sports programs blaring, no Spongebob hahahahahaha, no bickering. I find my husband by himself at the table
reading the paper with a cup of coffee and assorted other electronic devices
that he gives each a glance before he looks up and smiles his good morning to
me.
Good morning, I say as I reach for a coffee cup and fill
it. We kiss hello and I sit at the table
and ask him the standards as I sip the coffee which brings the rest of me back
to life. How did you sleep, when did you
wake up, what are the kids doing.
I consider my husband, whose early-morning commute to work has conditioned him to wake in the darkness. I don’t think that he minds; he has become a morning person. The kids are in the basement watching TV and playing with
Legos; that is why they are quiet today.
They love Saturdays as much as I do, probably more. I marvel at the fact that during a week, they
ask me to wake them up each day, and I do dutifully, bracing myself for tears
or whining about not wanting to go to school, even though that rarely happens
anymore. On Saturdays, they get up by
themselves before the sun lights the sky.
What are your plans for today, my husband asks. I don’t know.
I point to my coffee cup. I cannot think about planning right now. I rarely plan anything, anyway. He is the planner in our house. He could schedule the rest of our lives away. I plan to do things like wake up, get a
shower, eat toast for breakfast. Years
of raising children has taught me that even the best-laid plans will succumb to
someone vomiting in the car or having a tantrum in the grocery store. My planning skills have been weakened by the
whims of people who need to be taken care of, not controlled by a calendar.
Right now I am enjoying my coffee and the quiet. I’d like all of us to clean the house this
morning, I offer lamely.
He smiles at me. That
sounds like fun, he replies. I can’t
wait to tell the kids.
I smile back. Me
either.
I have satisfied his inquiry. We have something to do today. But as we go back to our coffee, and sit together,
reading the paper in the quiet, I think about my warm bed and
how nice it would be to be there right now.
*******
This post is inspired by:
Writing prompt #5: Saturday morning at your house…
Awesome.
ReplyDeleteThank you!
DeletePopped in from Mama Kats! That's what scares me about having kids-- no control!
ReplyDeleteYou are right - in parenthood there is little control. You can try to control a child, and you will fail. Sometimes you have the illusion of control, and then reality hits and you will fail.
DeleteAnd then you learn that you were never meant to control another human being other than yourself anyway. :)
So true - and even doing THAT is a challenge sometimes. :)
DeleteClicked through from Mama Kats and I L.O.V.E. this post. Wishing you many lovely Saturday mornings to come.
ReplyDeleteThank you so much! I really appreciate it.
DeleteI love that couple time we usually get on Saturday mornings while the kids feel like they're getting away with something when they watch cartoons until we finally get up and make them clean the house or something equally horrible. mwahahaha
ReplyDeleteThat sounds like our house!
Delete