I spent a year of Saturday mornings in 2014 in a dance studio, waiting for two little ballerinas.
It was only an hour and a half from the day, but it meant leaving the house early, and our boys to their sleep-in, or their leisurely pj-clad breakfast.
Thankfully our Saturdays are free from dance this year, and each one has been a novelty still.
Our mornings are slow and leisurely. I smile, grateful as I roll over just one more time without looking at the clock. I can laze on the bed and join in the tickle fights, stay in my pjs till 10am and enjoy toast and tea together in the kitchen as the washing machine does it’s Saturday thing.
And then, the coffee.
The lure of a fresh coffee draws us out of our sleeping clothes, and into the sunshine.
Sometimes we ride our bikes to the local, or the other local. Today the bike tyres were flat so we ventured slightly further in the car and walked along this giant jetty.
We spotted stingers and baitfish, whiting and blowfish and I strolled and captured and he even got in on the camera snapping action too.
Oh it’s never smooth going, don’t let the pictures fool you.
We were the noisiest in the cafe. Constant reminders to sit nicely, stop bickering and use inside voices. Then cue four year old frustration, impatient for her ice-cream.
Sometimes its crazy, and you wonder why you didn’t just stay at home.
But then you take long, wandering strolls together and the 30 minutes of real peace is worth the unravelling edges and petty squabbles in the car on the way home.
I want to remember the sunshine and the storybook moments as much as I want to remember the holy hard slog of parenthood. The grace, the patience, and the fighting of battles to raise them into children they were created to be.