Last Friday I had great intentions to accomplish a lot. I don’t know why they got derailed. It could have been the hurricane in Florida. My gardening friend and her family were in the path, but I had already checked in with her and she was not even in an evacuation zone. Maybe it was my heartfelt sorrow for the people of Haiti. At least most people in the U.S. have insurance and some sort of shelter, fresh water and food. But those people in Haiti have no other resources.
For whatever reason I was in a funk that wouldn’t go away. My sullen mood continued into the afternoon when I refused to make dinner and told my family to eat leftovers because they don’t seem to get eaten over the weekend anyway. I purposefully plan leftovers so we can have them throughout the weekend and save money on eating out. My family, OK my husband, often have cravings for a burger or something more expensive (although burgers for a family of four are not cheap).
Not only had I not gotten anything done all day Friday, I played mindless computer games while I was doing nothing. Self-loathing took over. My sour attitude came along with my husband and me while we ran errands a little later that evening. Then he informed me he was going to a swap meet on Saturday. It’s not an unusual occurrence this time of year, though I usually know further in advance. I enjoy having my husband home on weekends. For a person like me who works from home and is the main domestic engineer, every day is like a weekday. I like having him around on a weekend to break up the monotony of my week. Plus, I still like him.
I was at the lowest pit of my doom and despair as we set out. I was ruminating over how I would never get that day back; it was lost forever and always, and I would probably suffer from the effects of losing that day for years to come. I know, it was a bit overly dramatic, but the great thing about letting myself get that low, is the rise that’s sure to come when my mood tide changes.
Realization suddenly dawned on me that his absence Saturday morning would truly be like a weekday morning for me. I had a second chance. I had a do-over day coming my way. And do-over I did do. I woke up, walked, worked out a little and showered. I finished the edits on my book, went to the copy center to have it printed for my friend to edit and went to my mom’s. I even made barbecue chicken wings and mashed potatoes for dinner. I hardly ever make dinner on a weekend. Then I went to my friend’s house and afterward went to church.
My do-over mojo continued into Sunday, too. My husband and I fixed my mom’s backyard faucet, I made a new dessert of Apple Crisp Cookie Cups, and finished up my successful weekend with a gourmet sandwich made out of a loaf of ciabatta bread, and roasted vegetable black bean soup for dinner. There is nothing like a do-over day to redeem yourself from failure. But what I can’t understand now is why my family isn’t bowing at my feet after feeding them like royalty all weekend.
Gretchen Leigh is a stay-at-home mom who lives in Covington. You can read more of her writing and her blog on her website livingwithgleigh.com, on Facebook at “Living with Gleigh.”or follow her on Twitter @livewithgleigh. Her column is available every week at maplevalleyreporter.com under the Lifestyles section.
