Dear parents: You’ve made it! After a whopper of a week — nights that ended too late and mornings that started too early; shuttling the kids to and fro; seemingly endless cooking, cleaning and commuting — the sweet, languid weekend awaits!
I don’t know about you, but I’m looking forward to waking up on Saturday morning, unleashing a good, long lazy lion yawn, and greeting a day shimmering with possibili — What’s that, dear? Soccer game at 8? Weekly grocery run to follow? Well, at least we’ll still have the aftern — 1:00 birthday party at the laser tag? I thought that was next week? Oh, it is also next week. OK, but when I get back from all this running around, I’m going to need at least 20 minutes to decompre – Kids have haircuts at 4:00?
The tricky weekend. It gets me every time. I think I’ll have some downtime — it is the weekend, after all — only to end up zipping around like a hummingbird on Red Bull for 48 hours. This yawning chasm between my expectations and reality has, on occasion, so I’ve been told, made me an extremely bitter, resentful and altogether unbearably grumpy man. But the tricky weekend isn’t going anywhere, and if you don’t make some adjustments, it’ll eat you for lunch, too.
The first adjustment concerns the making of plans. When you have little kids, you don’t seize the day; you get seized by the day, and it shakes the daylights out of you. Here’s what you’d like to do on Saturday: pick up flat whites and stroll through the farmer’s market, meet your friends for brunch, zip over to play pickleball with Jen and Greg.
Here’s what’s actually going to happen: When Tommy and Ruthie wake up at 5 a.m., their tummies are going to hurt. Ruthie is going to have an accident on the way to the bathroom, and Tommy is going to throw up in your work backpack. You will go to CVS to purchase Pedialyte, and your big win of the weekend will be remembering to get dish pods while you’re there.
Plans carry hopes, and hopes get dashed. But when you set your expectations to zero, a funny thing starts to happen: You learn to take family life as it comes and live it more fully. As Oliver Burkeman observes, “We lose our grip on our plans for the day, and find ourselves tumbling into life.” As an added bonus, now any sliver of opportunity that comes your way — 20 minutes to read, 30 minutes to weed — will feel like a snow day.
Having zero expectations can also help you gain a newfound appreciation for the simple stuff. I’ve got four kids under age 8, including twin babies. What’s a good day for me? Bowl of oatmeal, couple glasses of water, watching a bird fly, some quiet moments in the bathroom. That’s a heck of a day.
The second adjustment concerns the taking of breaks. You need to be opportunistic and creative about this. Remember when, pre-kids, you were doing chores and that was your busy time? Well, that’s your break time now. And if it’s uninterrupted dishwashing, you’re officially on vacation.
Most of your breaks won’t be long, and they won’t be what you want them to be — you’re not playing 18 holes with the fellas — but beggars can’t be choosers. Drink an iced tea outside in the sun. Walk around the block. Close your eyes and take some deep breaths. As the kids get older, your breaks get longer. These micro-breaks won’t fully rejuvenate you — let’s be honest, at this point nothing will — but I’ve found they can get you over the hump. So if you have small children and find yourself clacking away at your laptop on Friday afternoon and pining for the weekend, let me stop you right there. It’s the tricky weekend, and you’re not going to get to do the things you want to do. But with the right adjustments, you might find yourself enjoying it all the same.
Zach Przystup (zprzystup@gmail.com) works for the U.S. Department of State’s Bureau of Global Public Affairs and writes about parenting and family life.
