I think that Sunday may just be my favorite day of the week.
That’s a lie.
I don’t actually think I could nail down one day that I would refer to as my “favorite” day. It tends to change in a consistent manner. Like my first year at USM, Thursdays were actually my favorite day during the fall semester. True…I had to suffer through stats…but class let out around 4:30 (if memory serves me correctly) and that was justcloseenough to 5 that I felt more than warranted to call it a day.
And there were more than a couple of occasions that “calling it a day” meant meeting people out at the bar.
Then there was fall of my second year…Tuesday nights were my favorite. Mainly because I had class with 3 other girls, and our super laid-back professor, and we would giggle about things like poop. The banter was always fun, and I love discussing interventions…it’s like the creative side of my job.
After Ellie was born, I loved Monday mornings. I didn’t have class until 9:30, and I would typically have enough time/energy on Sunday night to pack up her bag for school the next day. She would wake up at 5 (then 5:30, then 6, then 6:30, and finally – where she’s stayed – 7am) and we would nurse and snuggle. I spent so many hours of my life in those early morning hours listening to her grunt like a little piggy as she would drift in and out of sleep. I would play with the little wisps of her hair and run my fingers along her cheek. And we would take our sweet time getting ready in the morning, mosey-ing out the door, and I would have time to give her extra kisses before heading to campus (via the Depot for their amazing cheesy-corn muffins and lattes).
And now? I think I am in love with Sunday mornings. In this house, Sunday mornings mean steaming mugs of coffee fresh out of the French Press, chasing a little someone out of the kitchen, whipping up something a little more special for breakfast, and loooooong morning naps;) (Not for myself, mind you, but it is a welcomed break from a certain little busy-body:)
The days in New England are getting longer, and the weather more fair. I’m laying belly-down on the floor looking out at the sun…Ellie’s 10-month-old hand forever marked on my favorite coffee mug, and the smell of crustless Quiche filling air.
Yes. I really do love Sundays.