We had the kind of weekend that, try as we might, doesn’t happen too often. We caught up on sleep, we ate some delicious food, and we spent a lot of time as a family doing silly things. And in the quiet moments, Jay and I talked about many things. Things that needed to be shared. Things that needed to be discussed. Deep things, that we were not keeping from each other, but that we are just to dang tired to talk about during the week, once the kitchen is clean after dinner and the kids are in bed. At that point, all we want to do is eat ice cream, watch Lost, and go to bed.
Jay and I had a candlelight dinner Friday night, which has become an unintentional weekly tradition. Bette had gone to bed and Lilla was watching Nemo. Since we no longer have a breakfast room, we have two seating options in our home. We can eat at our sticky, gooey, child friendly island with the interrogation level overhead lights, or we can eat in the dining room. When it is just the two of us, we elect to eat in the dining room, where their happens to be candles. So we light them.
Sitting there together, at the end of what is always without fail a long week, we get to talk. Really talk. There are no kids interrupting (generally) and there is no rushing. We can sit with our dinner and wine as long as we like and talk about whatever is on our minds. Or at least until Lilla she comes in and says, Pleeeeeease can I have snack treat? Pleeeeeease can I have something sweet to eat? Pleeeeeease. Pleeeease Mom?
It was freezing cold, so we did not go out too much. On Saturday night, Jay made a roaring fire, and they are always roaring because the boy scout inside him cannot make anything smaller. Every once in awhile, I ask if we can make a small fire, because it is getting a little late in the evening to make a roaring fire or because it would give the house a warm feeling. Out of the question! Fires are meant to be big, hot and devour wood, particularly a piece of wood Jay has had his eye on for a while that will make the fire just right.
He finds it appalling that my mother’s idea of a fire was throwing a starter log onto the grate and lighting it. Needless to say, that is not how it is done at our house.
Then, we had a dance party to Taylor Swift. Because we have girls. And that is what you do when you have girls. You dance to Taylor Swift. And we made s’mores in our roaring fire. Bette was a little unsure about them, but once she got a taste of all the gooey sweetness, she devoured hers.
We had a pancake breakfast Sunday morning and spent the afternoon at home because it was too cold to go out. After evening church, we ate pizza for dinner and watched part of the Grammy’s and cheered on Adele and of course our girl, Taylor Swift.
I am always so thankful for such weekends, when somehow, the chaos dies down, and we get to just be. We get to be together; we get to be open; we get to be silly; we get to laugh; and we get to be peaceful. We get to be who we are, enjoy what we have, and most of all, delight in each other.