Saturday Mornings

I roll over, and I know without looking at the clock that it is somewhere between 5:00 and 5:30. My body is trained now, and I sneak downstairs to shut Ransom's door so that he'll continue sleeping even when the big boys wake up. In the winter, we keep all of the boy's bedroom doors open to let in the heat of the fireplace...and to be able to hear them since we're on another floor of the house. My head tells me that I should stay up and exercise while the rest of the house is sleeping. My body tells me to go back to bed and join the rest of the house. My body wins out, so I shuffle upstairs to join Kev. Someday my head will win. But not today.

Sure enough, a half hour later, I hear two bare little sets of hobbit feet slap across our wood floors and tromp up our bedroom stairs. The boys wake with the sun, but with Ransom's door closed now, he should sleep for another hour....just so long as he doesn't hear the hoolies. With happy smiles and giggles, they crawl under the covers, and I find myself trapped between two little boys - one who instantly curls himself around me and settles in for another half hour of sleep. The other can never seem to keep himself comfortable...or quiet. No matter the reminders, within moments of a reprimand he finds himself breaking into song...or story....or the question of what's for breakfast? This gets the other just awake enough to join in. Hands reach across me and grab at each other, little voices tease about crazy hair and stinky breath, and I again wish that we had a king sized bed.

My head, once again, tells me that I should've just stayed up because there's no chance I'll be falling asleep again. But, what's done is done. I'm horizontal now, and there's no turning back. Legs and arms tangle all around me, Daddy's arm reaches across and grabs one of them, and - as usual - a wrestling match ensues in the age old joy of little boys trying to see if they're big enough yet to take on their Daddy. I scoot to the farthest edge of the bed as possible and close my eyes - trying to eek out the tiniest remnant of a nap, and trying even harder to avoid the wrestling match that's quickly growing into something far more grand and glorious all around me. I know that someone is going to get slung off the bed or hit in the head, but that just seems to add to their fun.

Finally, they get tired out, and at the same time they realize it's Saturday and that means cartoons, so they race downstairs to curl up on the couch with Busytown Mysteries and Curious George. Kev tries the wrestling moves on me, and I assure him that I do not want to play, but what I really want is a shower and for him to make me a rugged cup of coffee. He good naturedly complies with a "Come downstairs with me. Let's not take showers today." I played that game yesterday, and I found myself walking around the arcade at the mall looking every bit the mother of boys with my rumpled comfy clothes, hardly any makeup on, and hair slicked completely off my face thinking we would stay home in a blizzard like every other normal family around us is doing. Today, the shower takes place first thing, because I never know what Mr. Boredom Buster has up his sleeve. I at least want to look presentable for it.

When I come downstairs, I am greeted with coffee ready, three little bedheads in their p.j.'s, and cartoons in the background. Today there will be work mixed with play - a dooryard to snowblow, new forts to be built, chickies to be dug out from the storm, laundry to be done, bread to be made, and a shift of work in the evening. But the rhythm is different. It is slower and more relaxed. There is no sense of urgency and no rushing off to be anywhere. It is easy and it is good. Just like the quiet after the storm. There's a hush - a stillness of sorts. Tomorrow, a new week begins again in a fury. But today....it is the weekend!