I do best when I get to bed around 10-10:30. Even on the weekends. Rarely happens. But it did last night, and I was in my glory. Reading alone after being gone all evening with just Avery and Todd, the rest of the family started watching movies just before 10. I wouldn’t have made it through the opening credits. I was just so sad when I started falling asleep in my book. I hate when I do that.
So I slept in maybe an hour. Perfect. One of the reasons I love Saturday mornings. Being up before everyone else. A quiet house. Except for the birds in our trees. No traffic even. Apparently everyone in the world was up later than me last night. Because it sounds like no one else is even stirring. I like the time to write. Or read. Or exercise. All alone. Blissful. So exquisitely so.
Today’s an exception. Todd gets to sleep in too. Usually he has to work, so he leaves the house at 7:15 on Saturdays. And once a month he’s on a camp-out with the boys from church. If he has an extra Saturday, he might have some scout activity like merit badge day or training. Maybe a service project. Mostly it’s hunting in the fall. It’s unusual to have a Saturday morning together as a family. But I relish them.
When the kids were little I remember lying in bed with Todd on his day off, the new snow buffering any outside sounds. He’d decide it was a perfect morning to go out to breakfast. I always agreed. What’s cozier than seven bodies squished in a vinyl booth at Denny’s with syrup and pancake smells wafting from the kitchen? Fresh orange juice, a treat we rarely indulge in. Cold outside, warmth in. Just hardly a sweeter scene. Except that the kids wouldn’t just sit still. It was kind of noisy. It took a long time for the food to come. They got antsy. Todd would ask why he thought it would be a good idea to bring such little kids to a restaurant. I’d laugh. We were making memories.
He and the kids were especially fond of a place out in Molt. About 20 minutes away out in the country. A restaurant that only served breakfast. I went with them once; they went without me when I’ve had other commitments. They had a band. And a line out the door. Cash only. It was awesome. Our youngest still asks if we can go. But it closed.
I like the summer mornings too. Because they start so early. I love waking up my plants. Dismissing the weeds. Alone in the shadows. I especially love picking raspberries when they’re still dewy, when the morning sun is just starting to warm us up. I feel like I’ve got a head-start on the day. I feel calm and alive, a little sleepy but awake. Nature does that to me. Soothes and energizes me at the same time.
I even like going into town in the wee hours. No one’s really up. Except the farmer types. And worker bees. So places like Lowe’s are abuzz. I greet my pals at the garage sales. Each of us quietly taking in one bargain after another. I love the people who are up when I am. I feel a comraradarie, a connection. We’re the ones who retired early. Who are old enough to be up this early on a weekend. Ready for the day. At like 7.
Sometimes I’ll be the one who has to leave my sleeping family. A conference or a training of some sort. In a way I don’t mind. I’m up anyway. In a way I’d rather slide up next to Todd and just stay there for an extra while. But I love being with my people too. It’s all good.
I remember coming back from town after a commitment I’d had at 8 one Saturday. Totally out of character, I had the crazy notion to buy donuts to bring home to my sleepy heads. Glorious! I felt like Mother of the Year. Because my mom would do the same thing for us when she’d do the laundry at the laundromat early on a Saturday morning. She’d come home at maybe 8, loaded down with warm towels and fresh donuts from Christy’s Bakery. Such an indulgence. These days we have them maybe twice a year. Maybe three times. I haven’t had one in years. But the kids love them. Of course. I remember another strange day that Todd was home with us and we were going to make a day of our errands and outings. We had some garage sales in mind and other stops to make, but we wanted to start at the local bakery for donuts just for fun. Our friend was there working. It was early. So just our kind of people were up. It’s still etched in my mind. I think because it was so unusual to have Todd with us. And to buy donuts when we could’ve just had cereal. I love that we didn’t.
Saturdays are our traveling days when we’re making the trek across country to see family. We leave early. And we have the routine down. We get up at 3:30, everyone who wants to can shower, we pack the cooler, and we’re all ready to leave by 4. It’s dark. And cold. Even in the summer. The sliver of light reminds us which direction we’re heading. I feel cocooned and secure in our temporary traveling home with Todd at the helm. I love going back to sleep for an hour or two and waking up alone with just him because the kids are so tired. I love watching the sun come up. I even like it when I’m the one at the wheel when he can’t be with us. Everyone’s asleep and I have my talks on and snacks within reach. The roads are so empty. The countryside is just beginning to stretch and yawn. The cows are nibbling at their breakfast, the farmers are just getting out. I feel small in the great expanse, but powerful too. Knowing I’m responsible for this precious carload of kids. I like knowing I have Help.
I remember so many times from our days in Illinois. Two little boys. Vet school. Demanding weeks. But we made a pact that we would mostly just play on the weekends. So we’d pack up for our day trips nearly every Saturday morning, venturing to state parks and Amish communities. We’d hike and shop and visit every little town within a 1-2 hour radius. I know he could’ve used those hours to study. But I’m so glad he spent them with us. Camping with friends, walking leaf-strewn park trails as a tiny family, stopping for ice cream in the country towns, these are some of our best memories from that time in our life.
We’ve tried to do the same whenever we can even now. When we come across a lone, unclaimed Saturday morning in the summer, we’re up early, packing our lunches and jackets ready for a hike along a river or up a mountain. That will take awhile. So we need to start early. I love our family times when it’s quiet out in nature. Not many people are on the trails yet. You feel as if you’re blazing it as a vanguard group. But not really. Because there’s a trail. But you know what I mean. A little chilly. But warm because of who you’re with. Really is heavenly.
Growing up, a lot of our Saturday mornings were also about getting ready. But for the beach. It took forever to pack the sandwich makings. The treats my mom had made. The nice rolls she bought just for this. The chairs and towels. The sunscreen bag. The boogie boards. What an undertaking. It was nearly always freezing when we got to the beach. Overcast. It would burn off. We had faith that it would. And it nearly always, always did. Eventually. But we had to go early to get a parking spot for our car and for our stuff. And so we waited it out on the shore huddled under towels reading our books. Even so, some of the best memories with my mom and sisters and our friends. I loved our days at the beach. Even the cold mornings.
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