It’s amazing how your definition of a good weekend changes as you age and move through the various life steps.
It used to be a good weekend included going to bed late, sleeping in late, having some kind of adventure one day, and doing nothing the other day.
That doesn’t always resemble my weekends for the last year. Yes, we’ve had some massively lame weekends in the last 52+ weeks. But we’ve also had some great weekends in the last 52+ weeks.
Take this weekend. The latest I went to bed was 10:45. The latest I got up was 7:15. I spent Saturday morning cleaning the house and Saturday afternoon raking the lawn. My evening was spent at my parents’, doing the laundry that was left AND caused by the washing machine breaking down.
We also played in the leaves, ordered pizza, went to a petting zoo, got lost in a corn maze and practiced our airport hugs (not that we’re flying anywhere, it’s just the only way I can convince C to give me hugs!).
The best part was being able to go to bed on Sunday night knowing the laundry was done. The house wasn’t a complete disaster, and we made lots of great memories.
And that’s what makes the weekend a success.