I love rainy Saturdays - always have. There is something so cozy and comforting about them. They make me feel like curling up on the couch with a book, having naps, and maybe baking something. Then - finish the day off with take-out and a snuggle on the couch while we watch a movie.
Then we had kids. And now rainy Saturdays now fill me with fear and panic.
"What in the hell are we going to do to tire them out and entertain them! Would it totally trash the floor and the walls if we let them ride their bikes in here? If we push the couches out of the way - I think the bouncy house will fit."
Currently, Max and Molly are upstairs jumping on Max's bed. And I know the crying will start shortly, and someone will wipe out and smack their head, and there may, or may not be a trip to the hospital.
This is a truth of having kids. You will dread things you used to love, you will do shit you never would have done pre-kid (without being half in the bag anyway), you will openly talk about shit - actual shit - like it is the most fascinating stuff to ever leave your child (I added this because I literally just finished asking my husband about Max's crap this morning) and you can kiss relaxing rainy Saturdays goodbye.
We have a kid's birthday party to go to this afternoon - and I am hoping the entertainment is a step aerobics instructor - or maybe a baby bootcamp class.
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