Sundays are nice days. They’re relaxing… No one is rushing around asking where their English reading list is (my oldest son the first day back to school) or where their football pants are (my youngest son for Wednesday night’s practice) or where their cell phone is (my husband at least once a week) or where their favorite pair of blue jeans are (my daughter 2 days after she last wore them – sorry, I don’t do laundry every day of the week). …that is, until Sunday night.
Then the scrambling begins when I say, “Ten minutes ’til bed time.”
“But, Mom, I haven’t finished my science poster yet!”
“When did you get the assignment?” I ask.
“So, you’ve had 5 days to work on it, and…?”
“But, I didn’t know where the posterboard was!”
“You mean it’s not in the same spot in the computer room that it was the last time you needed posterboard?” Why is it that moms are the only ones that know where everything is? My kids are constantly telling me they can’t find things.
I might say, “You’ll need a jacket today because it’s cold outside.”
“But I don’t know where it is” is the common response.
“Did you look in your closet?”
“Yeah, but it’s not in there.”
So I go look, just out of shear curiosity, and guess what I find?! Granted, maybe they had to move a pair of jeans and a polo shirt over just a bit because they couldn’t see it at first glance. Why is it when kids are looking for something, they just walk in, look around, and then say, “I don’t see it”? Most of the time, it is where they left it. Under the pair of shorts (that they threw on the floor the night before instead of putting them in the hamper one foot to their left) or next to the pile of new books I just bought (which should be on the bookshelf just to their right but have been tossed there instead). But, Super Mom is always the one to find the lost treasure, even though she had no idea where it was to begin with. It’s a good thing God gave moms some special powers or I don’t think I’d make it some days.
When my husband deploys, the weekends can get long. I remember on some Sunday afternoons not being able to wait for Monday morning. The kids would go back to school and I could have a few hours of “me time” again for the next 5 days. When he comes back, I feel like I can enjoy the weekends again. He doesn’t have to go to work and we can hang out, or I can go shopping for the afternoon, alone or maybe with just one of the kids. I can catch up on chores or do nothing but watch old movies on tv all day. I can say, “Go ask your dad.”
Sundays are nice days.