Some have said that our lives will be turned upside-down once Odette is home and our actual parenthood begins. Others have said that with the
boring lives we have lifestyle we live that we won’t notice much change. I am expecting something in between.
For starters I’m guessing that my Sundays will take on a slightly different feel. This is what my day today, and let’s be honest, most Sundays, looked like.
I am awakened with whispers in my ear that Jeff is going down to make breakfast and will wake me when it’s ready. An hour or so later (there may be some NCAA football on the playstation to thank for that) Jeff enters asking if I would like breakfast in bed or if I would like to join him downstairs. I mosey down to warm cinnamon rolls and fresh coffee. After breakfast I get cleaned up for church, only worrying about taking care of myself. There is no hair to do, no dress and matching tights to pick out, no one to hustle along. I don’t have to pack a bag with a snack, toys, or change of clothes.
After church we arrive home, cut out coupons, and make a grocery list. Jeff kindly offers to run to the store, but making sure to start a load of laundry before he goes. I begin to feel slightly guilty that I am left in my warm house and encouraged to “just relax, baby”. I whip out the dust mop, give the floors a quick sweep, pick up a few things that I left out earlier in the week. I’m not entertaining a toddler, picking up toys scattered about, or trying to get a wee one down for a nap.
A little over an hour later Jeff arrives home with all the groceries. He slyly puts a potted tulip plant on the counter and smiles saying “just yesterday you were saying that I never get you tulips.” How in the world did I snag such a great man?
We share a small lunch, switch over the laundry, and I head up to take a midday bubble bath. Ahhh. The relaxing comes on quickly and a short snooze sets in. The house is silent. There are no knocks at the door, I am not sharing my bath with a splashing child, and I can lay there for as long as I choose.
When I finally muster the courage to step out of the warm bath and into the cold air I hear the laundry being switched over again. There is a fresh load folded on the dryer. The small stacks rest nicely up there. There aren’t tiny little socks to match and fold, there are no small hands asking to “help”, and all the dirty clothes for the week are taken care of in just a couple of loads.
Jeff then pulls on his boots and brings in a load of firewood. I park myself in front of the fire, reading, surfing the web, and taking it easy. I am not shooing a little, curious person away from the hot fire, I’m not being asked to come play, and I’m not reading the same book for the 200th time to my (I pray) avid little literature lover.
The menu for dinner (which Jeff is preparing) is roasted chicken, garlic mashed potatoes, sautéed green beans, roasted broccoli, and crescent rolls. I am not bribing anyone with dessert for eating three bites of green beans, there is no tricking anyone into trying the baby trees, and I’m not having to get ketchup out to dip the chicken in.
After dinner we will probably watch a little tv, have some dessert, play with the dog, and head up to bed after dozing on the couch. I won’t be reading a bedtime story, singing any lullabies, or searching through the pile of clean laundry for a favorite pair of footie jammies.
I’m making the most of the wait, treasuring all the me time, and relishing my husband’s full devotion to my relaxing.
Don’t think for a minute though that I am not anxiously awaiting the day when my Sundays are completely and totally about my daughter.
Some could call it a lazy Sunday. I like to think that I am just really good at honoring the Sabbath.