The Good Weekend

Alright, I feel that my last post demands some penance. It was irritating and depressive. I need to not post on the eve of a weekend, when historically the crap gets real.

Sometimes you (meaning me) attempt humor and it’s just sad and also not funny.

Anyway, the weekend is done and we made it through. I came through with some new ideas about how to survive weekends. Ideas like:

  1. stop freaking out about future weekends and just focus on the weekend in front of you. One at a time. And,
  2. weekends don’t have to be gloriously hedonistic to be great. Simple pleasures and little improvements can be a balm. If you let them.

And so, what I want to say is this: This evening I made a frittata that we ate in the backyard while Henry did tricks on the trampoline, Jack curled up beside me on the grass, and Charlie and Truman took turns “being alone” in the fort of the play structure. Jeff set a timer on his phone because each wanted the fort to himself, and we are all about parity and turn-taking and respecting people’s need for three minutes of solitude on the platform above the slide.

I feel pleased and grateful that Jack was mostly happy today, that we could be outside together (or alone in the fort, as it were, for three-minute increments), and that I could be still and unhurried and easily there with my family.

I went to my niece’s baptism this weekend, and to the temple, and on a date with Husband. I ate a fine pastrami sandwich. I helped Henry reorganize his room. I read books. I sat on the grass with my people.

The weekend ended beautifully.

Because I let it.


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