No alarm clocks. That’s my favorite thing about Saturday. Before kids I called it sleeping in, but now I’m just glad I don’t have to wake up to NPR’s early morning news. The big kids don’t need anything when they first wake up anymore, so you can send them to the basement to play video games. The little guy usually sleeps later and when he does wake up on Saturdays, he calls for Daddy to do Bag of Joe.
Bag of Joe is the silliest ritual in the world, but what toddler doesn’t love being wrapped in a blanket an swung around the living room while Daddy sings, “I’ve got a bag of Joe, you’ve got a bag a Joe, everybody’s got a bag of Joe this mooooorning!” It’s modeled on the older ritual known around here as “Sack of Sam” but Sam is way to big to be lifted by the corners of a blanket now.
I always set up the coffee maker the night before. When we finally replaced the old one, which had been a bridal shower gift in 2001, I insisted we get the “grind n’ brew” deal.” Chad insisted it be programmable, and I’m that much of a coffee snob. If it’s going to sit in there all night, beans ground right before it brews will be fresher, right? It makes delicious coffee and though I hate cleaning the grinder out every evening, I’m oh so thankful every morning when the thing goes off (sounding like a jet engine, by the way) and I have coffee waiting for me when I get downstairs.
But Saturdays I just set it up and don’t hit the Program button. I mean, you just never know what time one of us will get downstairs and be ready for coffee. It’s set for 6:30 AM since that’s what time it needs to go off on weekdays, but if one of us is up at that time on Saturday, something has gone wrong. It happens, but let’s not plan on that, okay?
So, Saturdays are for staying in pajamas and slippers. At least for the kids. For me, when I finally get out of bed (at the decadent hour of 8:00 AM, mind you!), my extravagance is to go down and grab coffee, throw granola bars at the hungry kids, and then go back upstairs and take a shower. With the radio on. Loud enough to hear over the running water. I don’t hurry, either. I get to let the conditioner sit on my hair. I get to shave, well, whatever I feel like shaving, not just rush over the ankles. I get to lather up with lotion, not just hit the elbows and kneecaps. No one is in bed making me be quiet. No one is left alone and unsupervised making me hurry and worry. No one is waiting for me to pick them up or drive them somewhere. Even the sound of the phone ringing does not make me hurry along. It is bliss, really. I don’t bother with doing my hair or putting on make-up. It’s Saturday, after all.
And then I come out and find that my sweet husband who has just cleaned the kitchen (making the shower water temp fluctuate, but I’m not going to let that ruin anything) is still not familiar enough with the room to actually find where I’ve hidden all the food. “I’ve got to eat something. Will you make me something?”
Break time’s over. 🙂