Weekends with them

It’s Friday, which means the weekend is almost here.

But it means more than that.

Because although weekends have always meant a lot, now they mean that little bit more.

⠀

They mean the only alarm clocks to wake to are them, which also means there is a possibility of no alarms at all, no matter how slight that possibility may be right now.

⠀

They mean children’s toys and books in our bed and playing hide and seek under the covers from 5.30am without the need to watch the time or end the fun.

⠀

But they can also mean a sleep-in past 6am when I either want or need it, my white noise the sound of them running circles around their dad in the living room.

⠀

They mean more hands on deck and a lighter load to carry during the day.

⠀

They mean takeaway dinners that I don’t feel as guilty about and lunches out with a co-pilot.

⠀

They mean the ability for my husband and I to enjoy more time with each other without the normal stresses of weekday things pressing on us as much.

⠀

They mean catching up on things I haven’t managed to touch the sides of all week, and leaving behind the frustrations that came with those.

⠀

But they can also mean not catching up anything other than them, because I have more time, rest and perspective to see that those other things really can wait but time with them really can’t.

⠀

They mean family movies later than bedtime on beanbags with far too many snacks and not enough beans.

⠀

They mean longer showers and shorter unmet needs, with the perfect amount of each other.

⠀

Weekends mean a lot to me.

They really do.

Because sometimes it feels like I can’t get the most out of my family, or them out of me during the chaos of the normal weekday grind.

And I want to.

I really do.

Because they - my family - they mean the most to me,

Every day.