When my oldest daughter was a baby, I loved Saturday mornings when nothing was rushed. I could spend as much time as I wanted holding her, nuzzling her neck, and singing to her. With each daughter that came after her, it only added to the sweet time on Saturday mornings. It meant holding a baby and having unforgettable conversations with little ones about everything from Cinderella to possible pet options for our home.
When all my children were past the baby stage, there was no sweeter sound than hearing them wake up in the mornings, usually whispering to each other or shuffling their feet down the hallway. There was nothing more precious than having them crawl into our bed to have cuddle time (and, sometimes, tickle time) before getting up to start our day. I can still remember how much I loved to kiss their cheeks in the mornings, and I always told them, "Morning sugar is always the best!"
As time passed, and the girls grew up, Saturday mornings became a cross between all of us desperately wanting a day off to sleep late and someone always having somewhere they had to be. Of course, that meant I needed to be there, too. We went through our Saturdays of birthday parties, play dates, gymnastics, sports tournaments, a variety of competitions, babysitting gigs and the like. Those were the busy years.
I should note that I raised my girls with a certain...philosophy. I believe to be mentally healthy we all need one day a week when we can stay in our pajamas until noon. Now, that doesn't mean you must stay in them, but you should always have one day a week where it's an option. During the "busy years," we all longed for those days off. We enjoyed all the things we did, but we missed our relax time together, and - of course - the older my daughters got, the harder it was to have us all together.
The next stage was when everyone began liking boys, dating, getting driver's licenses, and going to college. Saturday mornings, back then, were punctuated with loud music booming from three different bedrooms. Of course, I didn't mind,...since they got the 'loud music gene' from me. I just preferred when they agreed upon their "getting ready" music instead of those occasions when it felt like 'battle of the bands'! Those years, while filled with more music - and more worry, weren't quite as busy for me. The girls were becoming independent, and I took great joy in seeing them become who they were meant to be. I had no real worries about my daughters through this stage. At this time, I had never met a boyfriend I couldn't run off. ;)
Now, my daughters are all grown up (19, 22, and soon-to-be 25). All my girls are different and, while they certainly aren't perfect, I love them for who they are. While I may not always agree with them, I respect them and their opinions. While I do tell them, they have no idea how much I love them and value them as people. How could they? They haven't yet reached the stage in their lives of being parents themselves.
Today, on this Saturday morning, you can tell my life has reached a another stage. I am sitting in a room of my own, something I didn't know I always wanted. My oldest daughter designed it for me, and my husband made it come true. Everything I ever wanted in a library/sitting room is here for my pleasure.
I am sitting on a beautiful, red couch with a hot cup of coffee, a favorite book, and my laptop. I have candles burning...just because I love the way they look. My favorite blanket keeps me warm on this chilly morning. It's a beautiful day outside, and the sun's beams through the windows are beginning to warm the room. I look through the front window to see the water fountain flowing with just a little frosting on its edges. I survey my new room, and it makes me smile and gives me peace. The house is quiet, and my room invites me to read.
Life is good.
"A woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write fiction." ~ Virginia Woolf
(OK, Virginia, I have the first two, just give me a little time on the third. I'll get there...)
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