insane in the brain

Does anyone else have these kind of family days?

First, you start off with one day of the week which you've proclaimed is "family" day. That means a day full of activities that is just for you and yours. A day full of good intentions and sunny ideas and a belly full of giggles and fulfillment. Maybe a trip to the zoo, maybe a day inside doing puzzles together. Regardless of what the activity is, this is supposed to be a day just to spend time together. You know, like all the experts say. "Spend time together", the parenting magazines tell us. No one ever mentions how truly TRULY hard this can be. At least for my family.

What does family day look like at my house, you ask? Oh, let's see: sleep deprived parents who have used up all their goodwill and extra energy during the work week; a broken-down car that fucking breaks down every fucking week; a preschooler hopped up on sugar and boredom; an endlessly messy and chaotic house; and some over-emphasized and under-planned event, like say the Santa Claus parade this past weekend in Toronto.

Yes, we made it to the parade. Well, Alice and I did. Matt was stuck in traffic and the only precious "family" time we had during that event was an awesome cell phone conversation:

Me: where are you?? You are missing the parade.

Him: yeah, well, I'm stuck in traffic. STUCK STUCK STUCK. What can I do about that?

Me: well what do you want me to tell you? (frustrated at having no control over this situation, ultimately which isn't really his fault. But DAMMIT did he have to go to Home Depot just before the parade??)

Him: what I WANT you to tell me is that it's OK I'm missing the parade, what I WANT you to tell me is that you aren't going to nag me about this for years to come. what I WANT you...

Me: click. Hang up.

And then, looking down at my daughter's blissful expression, totally unaware of her parents' insanity, as my own personal hell goes by on a float:




We ultimately made up and tried to salvage the rest of the day, but the pressure of making this one day a week really count is driving me bananas. The rest of the week we cope and tread water, pinning all of our hopes on that fateful "family" day. So when we awake to the reality of Sunday morning which is cleaning and meals all over again, I think we feel cheated by it. I admit it, I want the dream of family day. The anticipated satisfaction we could all have from spending time together. When, in reality, we could be just as happy spending alone time in separate rooms of the house.