During the winding days of the week, one makes plans for Saturday, until Saturday becomes, in everyone's minds, a shining oasis in the distance–a place where all suffering ends. On Saturday, we shall join hands together 'round trees heavy with fragrant fruit, and sing Hallelujah. On Saturday, we will rest 'til our souls are replenished and then clean the house until it gleams like Cuba Zirconia. Saturday is the day we will right our relationships and satisfy our needs for leisure, introspection, community, useful activity and solitude. We will, on Saturday, restore the family to wholeness and gather together making merry. Saturday itself is doomed to disappoint.
Joy cannot survive the ordeal of Saturday. On Saturday, hopeful expectations are shoved hard against a wall and break their nose on the pettiness of ordinary misunderstanding. Arriving at the oasis, I find it to be a cluster of drunken fools, sitting 'round a lit garbage can and passing bathtub gin, still wet with their own saliva. The drudgery of a short chore list stretches its long arms into the hours that belonged to gardening and sitting happily, whistling to oneself merrily that there is nothing left to do. Family members whose hands one could almost feel grasped together with mine at the visions of milk and honey, turn out to be reprobates who trudge about letting off a foul gas of disapproval, cheerlessness or malice. Soccer games are lost. Almonds are spilled onto the floorboards of the minivan. Uninvited migraines are suffered. People say when you spend $80 to take all of them out to dinner after a soccer game "Did we have to go here?"
Saturday is a bride who, though beautiful when young, ages quickly into a toothless hag with a voice like jagged glass. She did not meet my expectations. Perhaps, I must learn not to want to much from her, no matter how stunning she may seem on approach. I will set my sights instead on summer. Ahh, summer...when I can wake blissfully whenever I want, without illness, tending gardens, writing for hours, enjoying the company of my children without the ever-present task mistress of school looking over our shoulders.
In summer, the world will surely be as it should.
I've given up on Saturdays for doing anything useful. Saturday has become "recovery day" when we all wear our pajamas all day and eat McDonalds for lunch so that Mummy doesn't have to wash the dishes. And my house will probably never shine like anything but a dimly lit bulb, until we move out.
ReplyDeleteAhh, yes... summer. Here's hoping, right?
When kids get older, Saturdays turn out to be the day you have to attend a track meet as well as a soccer game and help make a model wood duck out of a used tin can. I am not making this up. Savor their youth.
DeleteDidn't you know Monday is the new Saturday? It is the day everyone goes back to their business and stops eating and trashing the house and I can have shhhh... quiet. Quiet for piles of laundry and dishes and discarded toys. But quiet, nonetheless.
ReplyDeleteIt is unfortunate that my ability to tolerate total chaos ended years before it needed to.
DeleteMy kids have Saturday jobs, which just adds to the stress on our 'day off'. The house is never very shiny when they clean. I'm with TangledLou. Though I miss my husband on Mondays, I get much more relaxation when all the kids go to school.
ReplyDeleteSadly, I have to be at work at 7:30 on Mondays, and then work is followed by a long progression of homework assistance periods, meal preparation and kid's sports, so it doesn't feel very relaxing either. :(
DeleteHahahaha - love this post. You got it right on the (whatever it is). Beautiful.
ReplyDeleteThank you. I am glad I am not alone in this insanity.
Deletemy husband says I have unrealistic expectations of the weekend. I'm glad to see at least I'm not alone. Loved this!
ReplyDeleteThanks, Kelly. :) I think my family is crazy. No one else that I talk to even does a chore routine together on Saturday morning but us and yet everyone's house is much cleaner than mine. It is one of the paradoxes in my life. Why do we clean more and yet have a crappier house than anyone else??? The answer is known only to God.
DeleteGreat post, Tara. So right on!
ReplyDeleteJenn, your weekends always sound like the travels of a balloon let loose on the wind, bouncing happily from one rooftop to the next. And yet your house is neat and your life seems to work. What am I doing wrong? I think I just had to many children...
DeleteReading your posts is always an experience. They are so beautifully written.
ReplyDeleteThis is how I feel about Sundays, by the way.
Thank you, Nellie. I always enjoy reading you, too. By the time I get to my 200 item long Google Reader list once or twice a week I normally have a migraine and have lost the power of speech so I am a sucky commenter, but I really do enjoy your writing. Thanks for always having something supportive to say. It really is lovely. :)
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