The Saturday Mark Watched the Kids All Day

Mark watched the kids for an entire Saturday today. From eight in the morning until five in the evening. Nine hours. I did not know what to do with nine hours. I want to tell you what I did, because I think a lot of us, when finally handed time, lose our minds.

Eight a.m.: pickleball with Megan, as always. We split with the retired guys, one each. Honor was satisfied.

Nine-thirty: coffee at Sweet Magnolia, just me, not Megan, because Megan was actually working. I sat at the little corner table by the window and read an actual book for forty-five minutes. A real book, with chapters. I had forgotten what the inside of a chapter feels like.

Ten-thirty: I drove to the Hy-Vee in Waterloo, twenty minutes away, by myself, in the car, with the windows down and the radio loud. I bought candle supplies for the next month and one fancy lip gloss I did not need and one bunch of pink peonies for the kitchen table.

Noon: I came home, said hi to Mark and the kids who were building a fort out of every couch cushion we own, ate a sandwich at the counter, and went out into the backyard with the new lawn chair Mark got me for Mother's Day. I sat in it. In the sun. For an hour. With my eyes closed. I do not know when I last did that. I do not think I have done it since Emma was born.

Two p.m.: I did things in the laundry room. I poured six candles. I labeled twelve. I packed eight to ship Monday. The laundry room smelled like a small heaven. Biscuit kept me company.

Four p.m.: I painted my toenails. Pink. Like a fourteen-year-old. I did not feel silly. I felt twenty-two.

Five p.m.: Mark and the kids emerged. The house was a disaster. The kids were ecstatic. Mark looked at me like I had been on vacation, which in a way I had. I made grilled cheese for everyone, because grilled cheese is a Saturday dinner.

Here is what I want to pass along to the women reading this who never get the day. Ask for it. Ask for it specifically and clearly and with a time on it. Eight to five. Not 'sometime.' Not 'whenever you're free.' Eight to five, this Saturday, you've got the kids, I'm out.

And if you get the day, do not waste it on errands for the family. Do not use it to catch up on laundry. Do not, please do not, use it to organize the linen closet. Use it on your actual life. On the book, on the chair, on the toenails, on the drive with the windows down.

Run yesterday was thirteen minutes straight, by the way, in case you are keeping track. I am keeping track.

It's almost six. The kitchen smells like grilled cheese and butter. Mark just asked if we have any of those popsicles left in the freezer. We do. Talk tomorrow. — Lucy