When Tomorrow Comes February 20, 2015

I thought maybe it would change after Carter was born. Or definitely after mom’s work schedule allowed her a little more time at home during the week. Or certainly when it was determined that Carter would have mostly in-home care. But this simple truth remains the same.

I love Fridays. It is (by far) my favorite day of the week. 

A lot has changed in my world since I last made this proclamation. I used to spend most of my weekdays napping alone in various places in the house. I would count down the minutes until mom came home from that place called work over her lunch break and we would walk the neighborhood. The countdown would then resume as she returned to work for the remainder of the afternoon. It was agony, though I never minded the naps.

People are always here now. Around the clock, someone is here, in my forever home. I’m rarely alone anymore, except for when Carter and family venture out into the world. And then, I don’t really mind the alone time since it doesn’t happen that often.

So much has changed in my world and yet this simple truth remains the same. Fridays are my most favorite day of the week. I sense it in my forever family, too, like we all are on the same page emotionally from the moment we wake in the morning. It’s going to be a good day. It’s going to be better than yesterday. Because it’s Friday.

I find this is especially true after a week like we had. Beginning to end, it was rough. More challenging than most.

But today we woke up and it was like we collectively decided it was going to be a better day if, for no other reason than that it is Friday. And why, might you ask, is Friday so special? I can’t speak for my people, but I speak for myself in my appreciation of this day as the start of the longest straight stretch of family time I get in a week.

It’s the start of the weekend, where the family is together (more often than not) and joy is personified in the simplest of ways. It lives in the moments where there is laughter and silliness. It breathes the life back into us in a way no other set of days can. It reinvigorates. It rejuvenates. It restores. Until Monday comes, and again we patiently wait.

Advertisement

So Late So Soon December 2, 2014

It’s not always easy. It’s a choice I make when I wake up every morning and a thought I affirm before I fall asleep each night. Yet after a certain amount of time has passed, it has become second nature. A habit of happiness, I call it.

One of the hurdles I find myself frequenting is similar to one my forever family also battles with pretty regularly. Anticipation. It’s a double-edged sword. In some cases, it brings as much (if not more) joy as whatever is being looked forward to. And that’s okay.

Though sometimes I wonder if we aren’t anticipating our lives away. I, for example, found myself longing for it to be the weekend. Already. It’s only Tuesday, which means there are three full days before the weekend officially arrives. Three full days I’ve just wished away.

It reminds me a bit of something I’ve heard mom say a few times since dear baby Carter was born. “It’s the best of times and the worst of times,” she’ll say, borrowing the words from English author Charles Dickens. Like her, I believe it can indeed be both kinds of time simultaneously. I think it often happens for growing middle class families around here. While I am all for embracing the good with the bad, there is a sense of melancholy about the words I can’t get behind.

It’s the same kind of melancholy I felt today when I realized my longing for the weekend was akin to wishing three days away. Three days to breathe. Three days to be blessed enough to wake up and start the day. Three days to love, live and find joy in the little every day things around me.

“How did it get so late so soon?” asked American writer Dr. Seuss. “Its night before its afternoon. December is here before its June. My goodness how time has flew. How did it get so late so soon?”

Just because it is second nature to me doesn’t mean it’s always easy. I too have my struggles on my daily quest to find the good in the people, places and things that make up my life. But there is a constant that has a way of bringing things back into focus.

Time. From the ground up, it has a way of reminding me to press pause sometimes and think. About life and what it means to be alive. About how valuable time really is. About joy and how it lives in us. And today, about how somehow the best and worst of times can exist simultaneously and somehow manage to make us better. Stronger. Happier.

 

 

TGIF August 16, 2013

It’s going to sound selfish, but I don’t care. I like the weekends. There, I said it.

I make the best of it, but I think I’ve already made it pretty clear I sincerely hate all that time when my parents are away at that place called work the majority of the week. (It’s not the most attractive quality of mine, but I digress.) So I do count down the seconds until “about that time” on Friday afternoons when mom and dad come home from work and I have them to myself for the majority of the weekend.

But a blog friend of mine was kind enough to remind me of something lately. If not for that place called work, my people wouldn’t be able to take care of me. Without that place called work where they make money, they won’t be able to take care of the baby. I’ve said before (and I stand by the truth) that money can’t buy happiness, but it certainly does buy food. That’s a bonus.

I still thank God it’s Friday, but I suppose even that is a matter of perspective. If the weekend started on Thursday night, I bet people would long for it to start Wednesday night. If it started Wednesday, the wish would be for it to start Tuesday. And so on. To what end does this bring us anyway?

It’s not just a people thing. Fridays are a dog’s favorite day of the week too. We canines understand routines pretty well, and we know what the Friday routine means for the next couple of days: people time. Adventures. Car rides. Dog park trips. So much fun happens on the weekends.

The way I see it, the weekends are a blessing. All the people time means all kinds of fun that we appreciate all the more because it is special. If it was always the weekend, what would we have to look forward to? Regardless of the darkness, I think everyone merits from knowing there is some type of light at the end of the tunnel.

So I know it might sound selfish, but I don’t care. I kind of love Fridays. Fridays are family to me.