Because a few feet away, Lily is grumbling in her bouncer. It's not full-fledged crying--more of the "I'm close to being bored, beware" grumbling that tells me I've got a very limited time before full-fledged crying commences. I'm gulping down my coffee. From where I'm sitting at the table, I can see our Saturday-morning kitchen. It's a mess. Saturday mornings are always messy. Tired people, moving slowly. A pan of biscuits on the stove. IKEA purple and green plastic plates with eggs and sausage. The island has the diaper bag and the bumpo on it, along with Pink Monkey (Ashtyn's beloved) and a pair of walkie-talkies. I can hear Doc McStuffins on in the living room. It's Saturday morning and I love Saturday mornings with my family.
We had dinner last night over at Nancy and Mark's, along with some new friends. Here's a little glimpse of dessert.
It's a quiet Saturday over here, and that's just what I need. A little time to get the house back in order before the school week begins. Jeff actually gets to go hang out with guy friends tonight, so after the kids go to bed, I'm thinking a glass of wine and a Downton Abbey marathon is in order. I might get ambitious and make something interesting for dinner.
It was a super-full, kind of exhausting week. The day after our birthday bash for Ash (so I'm giggling and smiling at my own rhyme), the Jeffster abandoned all of us for camping way out somewhere with his buddies. Camping way out somewhere has become a summer tradition for Jeff. I know it's good for him. I'm not extremely into camping (unless there's air conditioning and electric outlets and no wild animals), especially not hardcore camping like the kind that Jeff and the guys like (where you eat the fish you catch and hike where no other people are nearby). Apparently, after a very rough start--and by rough, I mean altitude aftereffects for our Texan friends, climbing the same mountain twice in one night--the second time after dark while holding raw meat (hello, here I am, mountain bear)--and thunderstorms all night (Larry said at least it was cool to hear the lightening and thunder echoing everywhere--hm, cool and terrifying)--anyway, apparently after all that, things turned out fine. I love how guys just shake things off and are like, meh, no big deal (shrug). Near-death experiences? Whatev.
The guys went white water rafting to finish their adventure and that seemed to be an epic time. Rafting is always so fun. I'm shocked they didn't push anyone out of the boat on purpose (the way they are together is crazy. I assume that's what it's like having brothers, but I don't really know. I grew up in an Anne of Green Gables, Little Women-kind of environment).
Mostly, I love how these guys are friends. Jeff and Larry met in the fourth grade. Tab and Jeff became friends in sixth grade after Tab punched him. And now they're husbands and dads with real-life stresses and responsibilities. And yet I looked at the three of them, sitting at the island in our kitchen, eating breakfast together and ribbing each other constantly--and I could pretty much picture those three, eating pancakes after playing basketball all night as teenagers. It's crazy-long friendship that doesn't ever go away.
I'm glad they
So I was a little tired, yeah, when he got back. That's okay. Even tired weeks can be good weeks. Even a weary soul can feel satisfied.
I know friendship is a blessing. Even more than the fun of trekking through the wilderness in the middle of the night and building a fire that rivaled Texas A&M's (nearly giving Jeff a heart attack)--I know that what means the most to Jeff is just that the guys came out here. It's the time together.
When you feel like you matter to someone, the truth is that they've blessed your life and you've blessed theirs.
So we've got a hallway filled with camping stuff that needs sorting. I've got laundry to do. I've just decided that this Saturday morning warrants a second cup of coffee. Maybe a teeny sliver of leftover cheesecake too. The kids are running out to play in the backyard. The kitchen needs cleaning.
Happy Saturday, loveys. You matter. I promise.