My Saturday begins as most do:  the creak of her door followed by her plop plop plop footsteps into my room.  She taps my shoulder to let me know she is there as if I could miss her unmistakable presence.  I remind her to go potty then she climbs in for a morning snuggle before little man awakes.  Daddy is asleep beside us as we choose a movie to start in bed before moving to the living room for yogurt and French toast.  It’s how we do Saturdays now.  It is really one of the few times we get to cuddle up together without distractions.

I hated leaving her this morning before her brother had barely made a peep from his crib in the room down the hall.  I hated going out into the cold to the local Panera Bread where too many of my weekends are spent these days studying for classes, listening to lectures and writing so many papers.  At home, I am so easily distracted by kiddos that want mama, laundry that needs folding and a kitchen that always needs wiping up.  So I pack up my computer and books to head to my all now too familiar corner of this busy restaurant.  I enjoy a quick coffee and bagel before digging into the very dense 75 minute lecture posted on the BlackBoard.  It takes all I have to stay engaged and learn this very critical material.  I want to run home and climb back into the bed where I left my family.  The food runner takes pity on me and clears my dishes before bringing me a cookie and glass of water when the morning rush settles.  He knows me.  We’ve been hanging out every weekend for over a year now.  He asks what I am learning this week and I quickly fill him in before getting back to it.  I take time to look ahead to see if there is anything else I can cross off my list before mapping out the rest of my weekend errands:  a return at Kohl’s, grocery shopping, and then home to help my husband do laundry and kid duty.

He’s a saint, that husband of mine.  When I mentioned going back to grad school when I was very newly pregnant, he didn’t even bat an eye.  When I interviewed for the program and received the news I had been accepted at approximately one million months pregnant, he congratulated me, put together a new desk, and updated the computer.  When I leave him in the wee hours every single weekend only to return in the late afternoon mentally exhausted, he says see you later without ever complaining.  He has been Mr. Mom two to three nights a week while I am at class.  All this since little man was just 10 weeks old.  He will be sixteen months tomorrow.  Where has the time gone?

On May 10th, I will graduate with my second master’s degree in just thirteen years.  I know that I could not have done in without the fuel provided by the snuggles of my children and the never-waning support of my husband.  I will be forever grateful for the opportunity they provided to me so that I could follow my dream.  They earned this degree as much as I have with their sacrifices over the last almost year and a half.  Our home, though happy, has been cleaner, our tummies have been better nourished, but we have never been happier.

I am writing for the 2019 March Slice of Life Challenge