Enjoy it while you can

March 19, 2017 at midnight
Updated March 18, 2017 at 11:05 p.m.

By Johanna Bloom

I am unashamed to say that I live for the weekends, and I especially love Saturday mornings. This past Saturday, I awoke to cool temperatures, with a bright shining sun. I shrouded myself in my favorite soft, enormous, pink, polka-dotted robe. I need to clarify that this is not one of those cute robes with a belt that allows you to have a waist or show a sliver of skin. This is one of those non-fitted, zip-front models that just scream ultimate mom comfort.

I sat in my overstuffed chair with my legs tucked under me, sipping my Victoria Roasters Breakfast Blend with my eyes closed in complete contentment soaking in the peace and quiet. In that moment, all is right with the world, and as cliche as it sounds, life is good. This one sacred Saturday morning I was alone. Completely and utterly alone. I took a deep breath and savored my laziness without guilt or judgement.

John and my youngest son, 13-year-old Jamison, were off camping and roughing it with his Boy Scouts troop, and my oldest son, 16-year-old Austin, had roped Mimi and Popsy into taking him car shopping. Austin is wise and realizes that when it comes to cars it doesn't take much arm twisting to get Popsy on-board.

So, for this moment, it is just me, the dogs and the ranch kitties who look like they have the same idea I do as they are sprawled out on the back porch. Don't get me wrong, I like activity and going as much or more than anyone does. During the week, I am always the first person up. I brew the coffee, pack the lunches, make the breakfasts, drive the boys to school, pick them up and chauffeur them around to their activities. John rolls out of bed and into the shower as the boys gently ease their way to breakfast. But I don't get ease at all my feet hit the ground running at 5:30, and they usually don't stop until late at night as I wash the boy's athletic clothes for the next day, do the dishes, lock the doors, and turn off the lights. I am the last to go to bed and the first to rise.

I absolutely love being a mother and I take my job very seriously, but when a Saturday like this comes along, I savor every last drop out of it. It is not very often that I can have my hair up in an un-brushed topknot, warm in my huge robe, with my fuzzy house shoes on.

As you would expect, that moment was fleeting. I heard the roar of a large truck hit our cattle guard as the familiar flash of white, blue, and red streaked by my window. The squealing breaks of a Fed Ex truck alerted the dogs that they, at last, had some excitement and proceeded with their job of barking their heads off and running playful circles around the truck and driver. The doorbell rang and I was caught. I was in an emotional battle, torn between ignoring the doorbell, hiding in my bedroom, and hoping the driver just leaves the package on the porch bench. But I am on an island caught in the den which is slightly visible from our front door if you cared to look. So, what would a rational, intelligent, grown woman would do? I decided that no one could handle seeing me in this state. I quite nimbly slithered down the chair in a melting motion to my knees. I then threw myself flat on the ground. Right then I silently praised all of the shoot 'em and survivor movies that the boys forced me to watch over the years. Then I performed the most impressive belly crawl on my elbows clad in my polka dot robe and fuzzy slippers, until I was out of sight. I then threw on some jeans, and a T-shirt, and rushed to the front door. I caught sight of the truck heading back down our road with a cloud of caliche dust trailing behind, as I watched breathlessly. I caught a look at myself in the nearby mirror and I saw that my hair was still twisted in a lazy clip and my fuzzy slippers still adorned my feet.

The bliss was gone and my adrenaline was officially pumping just as I heard John's truck shifted into park. The camping trip was over and so was my moment of bliss. I walked out to hug Jamison and John, but their smell made my stomach turn. Jamison resembled Pig-Pen from the Peanuts comic strip with dirt smudges on his face, spotted glasses, and unidentifiable stains on every piece of clothing he took and wore. John appeared haggard and kept rubbing his neck and back as sleeping in a tent made him realize that he is deep in the throes of mature adulthood. Wide-eyed and holding my breath, I lightly tapped their shoulders and directed them both to the showers. They each had their own moment of bliss as they were enjoying hot water, shampoo, soap, and clean towels. I began the unpleasant task of unloading their bags. I doused their clothes in stain fighter and washed more "heavy duty" loads than I could count.

Jamison comes out of the bathroom with dripping wet hair, "Um, what's to eat? I am super hungry." I took a deep breath and smiled. "Yep," I thought to myself, "I take this mom job seriously." As I headed to the kitchen to make the requested macaroni and cheese I let out a little giggle at my sudden realization, "My moment of bliss was fun while it lasted. But this is my reality and I love every minute it."

Johanna is a proud seventh generation Texan. She lives on her family's South Texas ranch with her husband and two lively boys. Email Johanna Bloom at smellysocks@vicad.com or visit her blog at morethan- smellysocks.com.



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