Mythical Saturday

A few weeks ago I was in the grocery store while my husband took the kids to the park. Moms all over the world can understand why I was taking my time, reading labels and looking up and down aisles I usually have to bypass in order to change a diaper or hurry home for a nap. I was savoring some time to myself even if it was doing a mundane task.

There were these two young women, probably in their mid-to-late twenties, chatting and shopping together for what I gathered was a dinner party they were hosting. They were immaculately dressed in high end clothes, perfectly highlighted hair and their finger nails shined as though they had been steeped in jewels.

I know what you are thinking. That I must have been green with envy.

I guess I would have been had I had the chance to soak in the moment and compare my flip flops to their designer heels. I didn’t have a chance for that though because one of them said something that made me stop in my tracks.

“Stay at home moms are so lucky. It’s like every day is a Saturday!”

I knew right then and there that these women were childless. Not because of their perfectly toned tummies and barely existent hips. But by the sheer fact that no mom, stay at home or work out of the home, would ever say that. When you are a mom, there is no such thing as a Saturday. Saturdays have gone with the way of the unicorn. They are mythical periods of time in which one sleeps in until 10, leisurely does their nails while they catch up on a favorite show and then maybe heads to relaxing late luncheon with their nearest and dearest. But for moms, like Atlantis, Saturdays have been lost.

I said nothing and they continued shopping around me, like I wasn’t there. And I wasn’t. We live in different worlds and for a moment I saw into theirs and one day they may see into mine. For them it’s an elaborate dinner party with sassy cocktails and pan-seared scallops. For us its whole wheat rotini, for which I have a coupon. My world is barely managed chaos. Its messy and its loud and some days keeping everyone dressed, fed and clean (myself included) is mission impossible.

And I wouldn’t trade a second of it.

I am constantly covered in baby vomit. But my daughter is fed and is growing.

My toddler likes to sing songs at the top of his lungs. And I have been blessed to hear his first cry, first coos, first words and I hope to hear many more of his silly songs.

Its not easy. It’s not picture perfect. It leaves little time for a mythical Saturday. But its a blessing. Don’t get me wrong, I am no saint. A morning to myself to sleep in would be heavenly! A pedicure would be pure bliss. But when it comes down to it, those girls were right. The world calls it luck, I say I am blessed. And everyday with my husband and kids is better than any ‘Saturday’ without them could ever be.

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Images by Perfect Moments Photography

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