Highlights I can recall, in no specific order and no specific preference:
A yard sale at my mom's house early Friday morning, tacos paired with Micheladas with the neighbors in the evening, Arlo pushing their vintage green mini cooper like a toy back down the block after it ran out of gas fresh on it's first joy ride in months. Sweet Paddington on the big screen with buckets full of popcorn at the theater, sporadic clay endeavors in the dining room that started with big plans but ended in a variety of all kinds of odd, quirky creations still drying on our mantle. A first attempt at a Long Beach flea market morning as a full count family of six, followed by an hour long (fruitless) attempt at hunting down dollar kites in liquor stores that didn't seem to have the slightest clue about what it was that I was searching for. Settling instead on Mexican food laid out on a blanket at our favorite beach, short naps on the sand in the afternoon followed by a tray full of McDonald's Sundays in the drive through at dusk. Regular late night airstream talks and renovations back at home. Breaking up one laughable fist fight in the halls over hot wheels. A baby with a face full of sand, grinning fiercely up at me from shore with hands clenching dirty orange peels, or soggy sand scores, on knees that seemed to only grow quicker every waking day, taking him where he wants when he wants, no matter the new stress it lends to Mommy.
And then Tuesday. Tossed at us like a hunk of concrete on the curb. Brining with it a serious case of the mid week blues. The kind of dragging feeling that comes to cling in the shadows of these perfectly played family weekends once they've slipped by. Dragging our feet back to the school halls. Limping listless around the laundry room. With nothing but the countdown towards another long and vacant Saturday, on the forfront of our minds.