This Weekend We / Back at the Farm

I think that the best testament to a good weekend is the absence of dread on a Sunday evening. I am a working mom, which is a term I have a hard time with for lots of reasons, but maybe chief among them is that I have so much help from my parents that sometimes it feels like I have unfairly appropriated that title from women who face much greater challenges than I do. That aside, unlike non-homeschooling, stay at home moms, Mondays mean that I have less time rather than more. Mondays mean that progress stops on most fronts, and that I have to enter survival mode. Do enough laundry that Tom has clean socks for work. Make dinner and do the dishes, but ignore that the refrigerator needs cleaned. Wipe off the bathroom counters, but don't bother trying to scrub the tub.

After the most fun weekends, I feel ill prepared to face the week ahead. After the most productive weekends, I feel disappointed about the lack of fun had.

However, after this weekend, I felt pretty content with the state of it all. Part of the secret is discovering that one of my very favorite ways to spend a Friday night is at my sister's house. It feels like I have done something without actually doing much of anything. When I crash their house with my entire brood, they make us dinner AND breakfast. They entertain the kids with midnight chicken visits, and since it's family, I don't even have to be too embarrassed when my two year old freaks out for an hour and a half because he wants to "go home." Plus, she has the nicest guest rooms in all the land. One of these days I'll get around to doing some sort of house tour because their house is cute, really cute.

The weekend also managed to involve an all grown-ups city dinner, lots of True Detetictive, and p
lenty of cuddles from another one of the common cold's victims. Now all I have to do is get through a few more days of work before two full weeks of every sort of good thing.

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