Tweet When I was growing up, my mother made a point of doing nothing on Sundays. It was the Lord's Day, meant for reflection and thanks and peace. We went to church. We stopped by Grandma & Grandpa's for lunch. Then we went home. And did nothing.
And I mean N-O-T-H-I-N-G.
My mom would watch television (usually a British comedy on PBS) and knit, or crochet, or maybe take up some embroidery. My dad would doze off in his chair. And we kids would be bored to tears.
There's nothing to do.... we'd whine. It's so boring!
I never understood then why my mom did nothing on Sundays.
Now I know.
She'd bore herself to tears so that she'd want to go to work on Monday. She'd ensure absolute boredom in order to trigger an excitement to look forward to work the next day. My mom did nothing fun on weekends except clean on Saturdays (and I doubt you would define cleaning as fun). Then she'd do nothing on Sunday except be forced to listen to four kids complain their life wasn't any fun. Anybody would want to go back to work after that mess of a weekend.
See, I've been doing it wrong. I've been enjoying my weekends. I've been filling my two days of freedom up with activities I want to do more of, and therefore, dreading Mondays with every fiber of my being. From now on I'm kicking it like my mom did! My kids will be beyond thrilled....