The Truth About Saturday Mornings

Saturday mornings.

A time when we can lazily arise to the soft soothing sound of birds chirping in the distance and sunlight gently breaking in through the drawn window shades. The aroma of freshly-brewed coffee, fluffy warm pancakes, scrambled eggs, and sizzling bacon rouses us sweetly from our slumber….

Then you are startled awake with a flying knee to the rib cage and a toddler wanting to see how far he can press his finger into your closed eyelids. You manage to get your glasses on and glance at the clock while defending your life to see that it’s not even 8am. While I’m groggy and discombobulated, my kids are like this…

Noah...before 8am...on a Saturday.
Noah…before 8am…on a Saturday.

And this…

David...too happy on a Saturday his brother. I'm not amused.
David…too happy on a Saturday morning….like his brother. My hair is not amused.

My wife somehow sleeps through the madness, or is just content to ignore it and let me deal with it. I suppose any request I make for help would result in a sleepy chuckle. Is this how the morning works the other five days of the workweek?

I manage to stumble out of bed and help the big one get on the potty. Have you ever had to help someone else go to the bathroom while you felt like a bloated camel yourself? Pure. Torture. The whole aiming thing is another story. I’ll just say that I have become way too comfortable around and in contact with pee. I’m not proud of it.

We stumble out to the kitchen amidst constant bequests for food. You’d think the kids haven’t eaten in weeks. The hunger is so strong it might overtake them at any moment. In my mind, I shout, “Maybe if you would have eaten your dinner last night you wouldn’t feel so hungry!!” But really, I calmly say, “Hang on, I’m working on it.” That’s a parenting win, in my book.

I’d like to say that every Saturday we feast on breakfast and spare no gluttonous desire. Sometimes that’s true. But, mostly, I go for what’s easiest in my pre-caffeinated stupor. Cereal, oatmeal, cream of wheat, whatever quiets the ravenous crowd enough to get them some calories and protein. That’s all every parent is after at meal times, right? Calories and protein. Kudos to you if you’ve somehow duped your youngling into eating alfalfa sprouts and sugar-free organic free range peanut butter (because peanuts don’t like being packed in a lab either) on gluten-free whole grain bread. You are beating me in that battle, but seriously, that’s not bread…

Real picture of gluten-free whole-grain bread...seriously.
Real picture of gluten-free whole-grain bread…seriously.

It’s corkboard…but I digress.

Saturdays don’t exactly play out how I would prefer them to in my mind. I typically like to wake up and get ahead of schedule in my days. That’s not how Saturdays work. Saturdays are the days that make you feel like a dufus for thinking you were going to accomplish as much as you planned to accomplish. Washing your face? Ha! You idiot, it’s Saturday, and your kid just poured his generic, filled-with-sugar syrup on the floor, his toes, and his hair, simultaneously! Kids really are talented little creatures.

But seriously, I wouldn’t want my Saturdays to go any other way. My ribcage might disagree, but when I have a moment of clarity and see the joy on my kids’ faces when they know it’s the weekend, I can manage, because I know it won’t be this way forever. Soon they’ll be sleeping in until 2pm, and I’ll be the one waiting for them to wake up gitty as a school girl. Or, I’ll get them up at the crack of dawn as payback. Haven’t decided yet. I’ll blog about it when I do.

Hope you’re next Saturday is the best one yet!



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