So, how was your weekend?
Seems like a simple, straight forward inquiry doesn’t it?
So why does this question get under my skin so?
I guess it’s because the people that normally ask me go on to list the eleventy-million things that they did on the weekend as if it were a badge of honor or perhaps
I used to work at a place where this was asked incessantly by a twenty-something chickie-poo with no kids and an active outdoor lifestyle. Every Monday she had to go around to everyone and ask them how their weekend was and then she would go into detail how she and her husband climbed this mountain or scaled that peak or traveled to Bum-Fuck Egypt for a quick two night trip to do some rock climbing or canoeing. I always felt like I was witnessing the conversation from the perspective of the bug, about to be pierced through the stomach and put under glass. I was powerless to get away and I was sincerely annoyed. I always thought in the back of my head “Just wait until you have kids.”
And now I work at a place where the same question is asked of me every Monday by a person who has five kids. And there is the expectation of participation after the inquiry. Participation while I am absolutely smiling and brimming with the positive glow of having accomplished 2.3 things every minute of my weekend, all the while being a positive roll model for the kids and enriching their lives to no end.
Now, this was something we did when they were small. We would go to local museums and kid friendly events every weekend. We would participate and things would be learned damnit!
Now, I believe we are at a different phase in our life. A phase where I consider any day that I do not have to be a chauffer to be a positive experience. A phase where I consider staying in my sleeping clothes all day to be a victory. A phase where I finally ask myself, “What do I want to do today?” I try to have at least a couple days a month where I have nothing to do but whatever I want to do. I call this approach, “mental health”.
So, starting next weekend, I’ll be driving 2.5 hours each way down to the cities every Saturday for a class my daughter is taking at MCAD. I do get to drop her off and then do my thing for three hours, but I am anticipating burnout by the fourth week or so, maybe sooner.
Yes, it was my idea to do this so I have no reason to kvetch, but now when people ask me Monday what I did on the weekend, I’ll have something to say other than
“I cleaned my damn toilet.”