There is so much to do and so little weekend. I always make this really ambitious to do list...and then spend the weekend in my pajamas playing with my kids and enjoying TLC or VH1 marathons. Somehow after spending the week running around between home, work, and errands...I am ready to veg by Saturday. And I do.
My dining room table looks like the mail box exploded on it, a few times. My bedroom looks like my closet exploded, a few times. My laundry room...well, there are no words. And I feel like drinking coffee and watching my kids play. And I do.
Then Monday will come and I will regret my weekend of sloth. I will mourn the time wasted on Flip That House episodes and games of Go Fish. Yet...there's that poem about time and enjoying the moment. Something about letting the laundry pile up and letting the dust settle and using your good dishes for a regular old family meal. I guess I'm subscribing to that theory. That I should enjoy the moment for what it is, because my kids won't be young forever and neither will I. So I want to stay in my p.j's today, drink some coffee, and play with my kids. And I do.