Tuesday Starts

It’s hardly profound but I’m pretty sure many parents—maybe all parents at one time or another—would agree with this statement: three-day weekends can feel much longer than three days. I do not mean that entirely kindly.

There was, let it be said, so much to enjoy this weekend: celebration of friends’ birthdays (65 one evening, four one afternoon) and a fantastic concert (Mister G!) complete with cameo appearance by my favorite five year-old daughter (okay, the only one, plus three of her pals), Zumba class, open gym, time with friends, playgrounds, the impromptu husband buzzes teen’s friends’ heads when their attempts to do so semi-failed and the joy blue sky brings after a grey spell.

There were moments that weren’t enjoyable. That’s just how it goes.

As I could see when the small birthday girl’s dad negotiated the sharing of the toy ponies (rainbows and My Little Pony factored into the party’s décor, so these ponies counted but big) I was reminded that this raising humans thing is labor intensive and calls upon us in ways we aren’t able to imagine going in. Last week, overhead at preschool: “Buddy, we can bring the toy to school but then it has to stay in the cubby.” Overheard in our house: “Turn the television off it’s the middle of the night.” It’s the same thing, different circumstances.

I head into the Tuesday that will feel Monday-ish a bit more behind for no reason other than the vagaries a four-day official workweek bring compounded by a house one day more lived in than most actual Mondays. The Monday equivalent of Tuesday isn’t the same because the house took one for the team.

My blog is sluggish these days (apologies). I got super busy, not so bloggy. You can find two of my stories (that appeared first in Preview, Massachusetts) on the Valley Advocate site. They are seasonal in their ways, a nod to spring. If you live here, you can appreciate that I am grateful this morning to the fact that later today I’ll be at Tuesday Market (yay). Earlier than that, I’ll be grateful for four kids in school. In between, I am entirely grateful to camera that tagged along with me over the weekend.

Three to read:

I wrote a short piece for Momfilter on my love for balance bikes.

I can’t help but agree strongly with the argument for physical education—stronger than strongly, even.

When I clicked to this my eldest—about to be a high school senior—read over my shoulder: we both had the same response of sad? Really? (But we get it; we both do). I think that’s to say this raising human thing is really complicated.

Sarah Werthan Buttenwieser

Author: Sarah Werthan Buttenwieser

Sarah Werthan Buttenwieser's work has appeared on the New York Times, Salon, and the Manifest Station amongst other places. Find her on Twitter @standshadows

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