Saturdays

So... today is Saturday.  That pretty much sums up the post actually.  My friend joked with me today that we should teach a course at the next BYU women's conference about choosing your spouse.   One of the premarital tests would be to borrow 4 active children AND their Saturday activity schedules and see how it goes.  You may make the same choice of spouse but at least you'd be going in with eyes open.

It's all about expectations right?  Each of us expects the world of Saturday.  Because Sunday is our Day of Rest, it all has to pack in to Saturday:  chores, home improvement projects, yard work, music, sports, birthday parties, baptisms, shopping, date night, etc.  Dave and I spend the week putting pressing needs into the Saturday to-do box only to find that Saturday barely allows us to chauffeur our kids to their obligations with mid- trip hand offs, clothes changes and water bottles in the cars, food for the road packed, etc.  By night, one glance at the untouched to dos makes us both a little depressed.  We are often not our kindest selves swimming through this either.  OK- for sure I am not.

On top of this, we are reintegrating our dad.  Reentry is always rocky here.  I take full responsibility for this.  I often ignite and nearly explode the foreign object as it bumps into our airwaves.  By the weekend we have worked into and with a routine that I have created all week long.  We know about the 10 minute tidy, what babies do and do not feed themselves, how and when we blast the music, turn on the TV or computer, which day is for sugar cereal, etc.  

Enter Captain Fun.  Dave is always super high energy (which causes a bounce in the atmosphere), happy to be home, and ready to go.  The routine of the day is a bit of a bummer and surprise.  It's Disneyland Dad meets Micro Manager Mom.  The result ain't pretty most days.  And it isn't that Disneyland Dad doesn't try.  He does chores, cheers for games, enforces rules, etc.  So I'm not sure why the disconnect.  All I know is that by Sunday night I seem more able to share the parental role without fear.  What am I afraid of?  Fun and chaos?  Is that really so bad?  As soon as I know or have a better guess, I'll write about it.  

For now, I just needed to state that another Saturday has been navigated.  I am always sad that I do so poorly.  The cost of my rigidity but be equal or greater to the cost of letting go.  It's just a difference of who pays.