I love Tuesdays. Tuesdays mean very little running around. Tuesdays mean laundry gets washed and dried (although rarely folded), emails get read and responded to. Tuesdays mean a trip to the library (usually) and to the grocery store to get food that will be eaten up and gone in two days. Tuesdays mean I breathe for the first time in 5 days.
We run, a lot. This past weekend, for example, the four kids had 8 hours of ice time from Friday night to Sunday night. Eight hours of ice time morph into ten or twelve hours of driving, of getting ready, of unpacking and repacking the car. I love being a hockey mom. I love cheering on my kids in their games or during their skills, and this weekend I got to hand out awards to my littles as their program director and take photos of my boy’s team from the bench and cheer on my biggest girl’s goal. But eight to ten to twelve hours of ice time mean no time to rest, to breathe, to recuperate. That’s what Tuesdays are for.
I don’t get everything accomplished on Tuesdays; that would be a wish upon a star. Instead, I find my footing and wash the clothes and write a little (just a little). It feels good to come here on Tuesdays and spill a little of what I keep inside my head. But now the kids are fighting and the biggest girl is looking for homework help and Tuesday goes back to being another day.