Nearly comatose! That’s my state of being on Friday nights. It used to be that I’d come home, cook, attend a sporting event and collapse into bed, ignoring my bodies signals to recover from a long week of work and attending to house, errands, yard, laundry and family. No complaints, here, just stating the facts. I loved going to games and watching our kids and their friends do what kids do, even when fatigue made me resemble a glazed Stepford wife at times. It was fun because I knew these kids and had watched them grow up.
So, when my ever-energetic husband asked me to attend the local football playoffs the last couple of weeks, I gladly declined the invitation. Why oh why in the world would I want to move my behind out of the well worn cushy couch, to freeze it while watching kids I don’t know get pounded by other kids I don’t know, all the while trying to move an oddly shaped ball, yard by excruciatingly boring yard, down a field behind a goal line? No can do.
My new Friday night tonic to reward myself from a productive week of work and attending to the house, yard, errands, laundry and family: a beer, a burrito and a bit of comedy. Heaven. My brain is bathed in just the perfect amount of dopamine to put me in a very relaxing, mildly serene state. Nothing bothers me. No more Stepford wife, just one happy, glowing working mom, who chuckles at the silly recorded shows, enjoys not having to prepare dinner for four and can roll into bed any time I darned well please. Sound euphoric?
The last few years, I couldn’t imagine life on Friday nights without kids to attend to. I thought I would miss the action. This phase of life is not without adventure. I couldn’t live happily without that. But Friday nights now have become sacred. It’s sweet to be able to choose what to do without selfish guilt: cook dinner, order out? watch TV or read? go to local game, stay home? bed at 9, bed at 11? Last night choice, order out, TV, home, bed at 11!
Here it is, Saturday morning, I’m well rested and ready for an adventure!