My Saturdays are longer than 24 hours, and start at past 10 p.m. on Fridays when, done with work, my husband and I scout for new places to hang out in or go directly to old favorites.
Or if I finish ahead of him, I go out with drink-starved friends and see how long I can stay standing after guzzling bottle after bottle of below zero beer.
All the stresses and cares of my week drop away and I savor these moments when I can sleep as late as 4 a.m. without having to think about work or the children’s assignment.
On this longest day of my week, I give in to the temptations of mojitos, frozen margaritas, caffeine, gelato, fatty food, sleep deprivation, and malling that oftentimes ran up to several hours and result in sore legs and feet.
From sleepless Friday nights, my Saturdays continue on to sleep-deprived mornings and afternoons when my husband and I and our children hit our usual destinations, usually SM, Ayala, or Parkmall. Sometimes, we surprise ourselves by deciding on the beach or some other complicated destination.
At our chosen mall, my kids — with help from my husband and me — blow off a few hundreds on Timezone. Or we give in to our intellectual craving and hit the shelves of National or Powerbooks; Lennon’s recent favorite author is Dr. Seuss while Dylan is showing interest in, of all things, comics. But since he had already gone through all seven Harry Power books, four Twilight books, and nine Series of Unfortunate Events books, aside from a few in the Hardy Boys series, I forgive him.
Choosing a lunch or dinner destination is an adventure in itself that requires a complicated discussion on the kind of food available in a particular place, the degree of deliciousness we give to the menu, six-year-old Lennon’s absolute abhorrence for pork and beef and 11-year-old Dylan’s hate of fish, and sometimes end up in all of us settling for a fast food joint.
We cram most chores that can’t be delegated to the help, like paying bills and doing grocery (thank God for SM which allows us to do both in one place), on late Saturday afternoons. We know we’ve had enough when we’re already complaining of painful backs and tired legs, and we hurry through last-minute stuff so we could head for home.
My Saturdays wind down with tv or a good book and transition to running Sundays, when my husband and I join fun runs (there seems to be one for every Sunday of the week) or do long runs in their stead.
I love my Saturdays; they prime me even for the worst of Mondays.