I was angry at my husband today. Mostly because he can’t read my mind and you’d think after over 17 years together, that is a skill he would have mastered.
We finally had a Saturday morning with no plans. Which meant my family of five would all be together under the same roof.
When COVID restrictions lifted, our family was back on the road. Soccer games. Family events. School, church, work, all the things.
We’ve been on the go for months, often splitting up — heading in different directions for events that happen on the same day. But on this particular Saturday, we had nothing planned.
And nothing on a beautiful fall day was exactly what my heart needed.
See, my girls have a better social life than me. Ella is 13 and Grace is 11. They are often invited to hang out with friends in the evenings after school and on weekends.
And I love this for them. But that also means I miss them. A lot.
It’s just this weird transition of my kids not being under my roof at all times, you know? It’s something I’m trying to get used to.
My husband said he wanted to go fishing with our 4-year-old son on Saturday morning. I figured they’d be gone early, too early for me to get out of bed, and I figured they wanted some daddy-son bonding time anyway.
“You guys go ahead,” I told him. “I’m going to sleep in.”
And here’s the part where I thought he should read my mind.
I assumed I would sleep in and my girls would sleep in, and then later in the morning we would all wake up and I would sip coffee and they would be in the same house as me and by 10 a.m. the boys would be home from fishing and it would be like old times, when our family of five was perfectly content being under the same boring roof.
But when I finally rolled out of bed the house was very quiet house. I poured myself a cup of coffee, started a load of laundry, and walked into my daughter’s room expecting to sit on her bed and have one of those mother/daughter chats I so desperately miss.
But I walked into her room and found an empty bed. And then I walked into her sister’s room and found an empty bed.
And that’s when I realized — my family left without me.
I was sad. I was mad. I called my husband.
“Why didn’t you guys tell me you were all fishing together?” I asked him.
He was confused.
“Um, I thought this was a good thing. I thought you would love a quiet house on a Saturday morning,” he told me.
But I didn’t want a quiet house. I wanted a house with everyone together.
I cried. He was speechless, which was probably a good thing.
A few years ago, when my girls were still little, and needed me for every little thing, and everyone was whining and touching me with sticky fingers and I had to cut up chicken nuggets and hot dogs for the 10 millionth time — yes. That’s when I longed for a quiet Saturday morning. But now I want to see my girls wake up, and walk down the hall with their favorite blankets and stuffed animals snuggled tightly in their arms. I want them to ask for apple juice and their favorite cartoon.
I want it all back. Even if it’s just one Saturday morning in the fall.
So no, dear husband, I’m not mad at you — I guess I’m just mad at time.