Oh, the weekend. How it used to be such a glorious time. I remember the feeling of anticipation that came at the end of the week. The work week had to pause come Friday afternoon. There was a two-day hiatus on waking up early, getting dressed before noon and eating appropriately sized meals. The sun seemed to shine a little brighter Saturday morning than it did the day before (probably because I was seeing the sun 3 hours later in the day...).
And then...a child.
No longer is the weekend a special time reserved for rest and recuperation. No longer do I get to snack all day or eat breakfast at 2pm. No longer does the sun shine any brighter. Once a short person takes up residence in your house Saturday is the same as Sunday is the same as Monday... They literally define the phrase "no rest for the weary." Because that's what parents are - weary. And all we want is 2 more minutes of sleep. But no. All we need is to open our eyes before someone starts screaming our names. But no. All we wanted was to write a bit about how exhausting it is to chase a toddler but instead said toddler jumped on the bed until she fell off laughing in hysterics and then wanted to go to the park because Heaven-forbid we sit still for even 10 seconds! (That last one may not be everyone. Maybe that was just me.)
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