I Hate Weekends

I used to love the weekends. When Hudson was alive, I pretty much lived for the weekends. Weekends were the time when Hudson, her dad, and I had uninterrupted time to hang out, have fun, and just be together.

These days, I hate the weekends. I really hate them. This seems a little counterintuitive that the weekends are worse than the weekdays, since I spend the weekdays mostly alone at home, whereas at least Ed is at home with me on the weekends. While I am glad to have him home with me on Saturday and Sunday, it is these days when I feel Hudson’s absence the most, when I am reminded the most of what a complete 180 we’ve been forced to make in our lives completely against our will.

Some of our favorite things we used to do on the weekends:

Say hi to all the animals at the zoo

Visit Poppy and Grandma and Grandpa in North Carolina and tool around in Poppy’s boat

Hike around the Arboretum and look at all the flowers

Run around and play at the National Mall

Fingerpaint

Hang out with Bess

Hang out with Bess some more

Watch planes take off and land at Gravelly Point

Chill with our mama- and daddy- friends at happy hour on Friday afternoons (and eat black beans)

Play in the snow in the winter

Rock in the rocking chair (saying “rocky-rock, rocky-rock”)

Name all the animals at the Museum of Natural History
Play with cool toys and run around the HUGE atrium at the Building Museum
Go to the farmer’s market in the summer
Make cinnamon raisin French toast and cheese grits for the munchkin on Sunday mornings (with leftovers for Monday’s lunch)


Other things we’d be doing on the weekends this summer if our sweet Hudson were here:

Swimming at our many community pools or just in a baby pool in the backyard
Teaching our big girl how to use the potty and sleep in a big-girl bed
Checking out the many county fairs around DC
Taking long bike rides in the bike trailer we were getting ready to buy right before Hudson died
Picking our own strawberries, blueberries, peaches, and any number of other summer fruits we could find at local farms
Baking pies with Hudson using the fruit we picked together
Reading bigger and more complex books with her
Helping her learn to use crayons and markers
Going to playgroups with all of her friends
Attending the birthday parties of her many friends who are turning one and two years old
Teaching our girl to learn to love camping in our National Parks
Taking her to Jazz in the Sculpture Garden on Fridays
Visiting the National Gallery and letting her start learning about art


Things we would not be doing on the weekends if our Hudson were here:

Sanitizing and packing her toys away in boxes
Running errands without regard to nap schedules and mealtimes
Going to the movies regularly
Writing thank you notes for all the innumerable kindnesses we’ve received in the last three months
Painting our new porch ourselves (we’d have paid someone to do it so that we could spend the time with our girl)
Avoiding eating French toast and cheese grits, because it’s just too damn sad
Writing on this outrageously sad blog on days when my stat counter shows readership drops off (presumably because everyone is out doing fun things, including our friends with kids, who are out doing fun things with them)

I know that there are lots of fun things that Ed and I could be doing on the weekends without Hudson. We did them together often before she was born. But that, of course, is totally beside the point—doing all of those things feels equally sad, because we should be doing something else. I also know that if we’re lucky, these sad weekends will one day be different, and we’ll have more children to cherish and enjoy and savor these days with. But for now, the weekends are one of the worst reminders that for the time being, I am a childless mother. And for that, I hate them.