I have noticed an influx of status updates on Fridays, proclaiming, “TGIF!” or “Hooray for the weekend!”. I wasn’t sure if it was because I myself do not have a 9 to 5 job (or a job at all, anyone want to hire me?), or if it’s because I have small children, or if I can blame this one on the farming lifestyle, but weekends around here are kind of like Tuesdays without the convenience of bank hours.
Case in point, this morning: it’s 8:30, the girls and Joe have already had their breakfast of homemade waffles (just call me Betty Crocker); I have already troubleshot the dishwasher that is acting funny (I may be Betty Crocker today, but I am NOT Laura Ingalls Wilder!!), started some laundry, refereed a fight (or three), put Amelia down for a nap, and Joe is now long gone.
Sound like a restful Saturday?
The restful Saturdays of long ago, when Joe and I were living in town with our careers in place, have given way to early mornings, single parenthood (during busy seasons), and sporadic grouchiness. Today is one of those mornings. Joe has hay on the ground (which means, mowed off, left to dry, still needing to be baled). Joe will run the square baler, while our hired man will run the round baler. As far as the hay goes, the difference between square and round bales, this time, is just in the packaging, for all of you newbies, like me. However, my focus isn’t on the actual baling, it’s the fact that it’s Saturday, and Joe will still work a full day.
I am trying to come to grips with the fact that, despite the perfect weather, we will not be that family that hangs out at the pool on a Saturday afternoon. We won’t be doing our grocery or Target shopping together. Saturdays are just another day when Joe has to work and I have to wrestle.
So, this poses my farm question of the minute: When do farmers get to write “TGIF!” as their Facebook status? Will there ever be a week that I will anticipate Joe home at 5PM on a Friday and know that he will enjoy our company all weekend long, uninterrupted? When will I get some help, real help. . . not Anna trying to push the cart full of goods and kids. . .at TARGET????
I assume the answer to this is never, and this morning, I’m not okay with it, but I know that in time, I will get used to it (notice I wrote “get used to,” not “be at peace with” or “embrace!”). But for now, I will continue to growl every time I read a “TGIF!” or “Thank goodness it’s Friday” post on Facebook.