Saturdays

Call me Mother of the Year.

The Peanut needs help. While he is practically perfect in every way, he does require help in the days of the week and telling time.

Saturdays are always the balm of my week. Boomer is amazingly kind and takes Peanut for the breakfast-and-cartoon experience and lets me sleep in the Saturdays he's not working. I love him for it, and I love knowing my night-owl habits will be recharged for another week.

Peanut, however, has not figured this out. He loves Saturdays because Daddy is home all day and therefore attackable. Peanut figures that since he has all day to play with Daddy, we must not waste any time sleeping. I'm looking forward to the teenage years when I can pay him back for this philosophy. Actually, he'll probably still be waking my lazy self up.

This morning is a prime example. I'm snoozing away and, as usual, Peanut comes toddling into my room to wake me up with a very sweet little "Hi Mama" first thing in the morning. I open one eye as he clambers over me to get to the middle of the bed (the closer to Daddy). Something's not right. It's still dark. I open both eyes. Definitely still dark. What gives? Then I look over at the alarm clock. 5:37 a.m. WHAT????!!!!!! IT'S SATURDAY!!!!!!!!! And Boomer somehow sleeps through this!!!!!!

Peanut finally rouses Boomer at 6:30 and they begin male bonding over Mickey Mouse and toast. Peanut decides he's had enough of Mommy sleeping at 10:15 (I love my husband) and decides to wake me up. Again. This time, I'm ready with hugs and the suggestion of the potty. It's met with resistance, and Boomer explains that today, finally, Peanut was a big boy. YES!!!! Long may this last! My hugs are permitted, and I ask if he'd like to visit the potty again. He screams in terror.

Call me Mother of the Year.