Some Saturday mornings are better than others.
I love a good productive sweaty work-in-the-yard or reclaim-the-house kind of Saturday morning. I enjoy a meandering garage-sale challenge Saturday morning. I’m quite content with a road-trip to see the ocean Saturday morning (though those are few and far between for me, which is ridiculous since I live rather close quite a few beaches — but that’s another story).
One of my least favorite Saturday mornings is the sleep-in kind. Don’t get me wrong — when I’m sleep deprived from a whole lot of a whole lot and my whole being needs the sleeping, it’s a godsend to have a Saturday morning roll around once a week. Mostly, though, I like to be getting my sleep one night at a time in large enough doses that I can enjoy a Saturday morning with my eyes open.
Last Saturday morning Maren came over to hang out while her parents dashed about town doing stuff. Hovering between six and seven weeks old, she filled the morning with holding the baby, looking at the baby, feeding the baby, changing the baby. I do not get a lot of baby time in my life any more. It was a fabulous few hours!
I even let Dad hold her for about 10 seconds.