Tradition revisited

My oldest son was two when I first started teaching. After a couple of years of mothering and taking graduate classes, our day's routine had a comfortable rhythm to it that included morning walks, breakfast picnics, trips to the park across the street, and evening walks under the sidewalk lights after bath time. Then I started my career, and the pace of our lives was altered indefinitely.

To ease the transition, for me as much as for him, I'd make sure I headed out the door as soon as I could at the end of the week. That day was always designed to be an adventure. We'd head to the park, the bakery, even into the city sometimes for walks around the mall or the zoo. The rules said wheels weren't allowed at the zoo, but the guards on duty would always encourage my kiddo, so skilled on his scooter at a young age, and we'd zip around from afternoon until dark before we'd head home for even more cool stuff with his dad. We called it "Fun Friday".

Two kids later, I've let the tradition go. We might grab an ice cream cone or make homemade pizza, but I don't even use the label anymore because I don't want to draw attention to it when it's not...fun. Too often, I find myself stuck at my desk, digging myself out. Even as I planned my escape today, the minutes raced by in my attempts to sort, reply, and consult with colleagues about pressing issues. By the time I made it home, I felt weighed down, defeated...until we put on our sneakers. 

Cool air on our faces, we three set off to the trail for a run and a bike ride. My little one sat straight up in the jogger for the best view of riders and robins. My middle one zoomed ahead at his own pace, stopping periodically to tease his brother. I got to run. We ended up getting a playground all to ourselves, and each of us had burst of energy that had us doing stunts around the slides and swings. It's not even Saturday, see, and we've already started the party. Fun Friday, welcome back.