The Horribly Bad, No Good, Rainy Sunday

When you're stuck in an office all week, you pray that the weekends are nice so that you can possibly get outside and remind yourself what something other than the 4 walls of your office look like. (Hey! What's the big yellow thing in the sky? Is that a really big fluorescent light?) This past weekend we had a gorgeous, sunny Saturday (which was great because we had an outside picnic to go to) but Sunday was chilly, damp, and rainy. It was fabulous.

Now I know I just told you that the primary goal is nice weather. It's great when you can score a warm, sunny weekend, especially if you have no plans and can really enjoy it. Who wouldn't enjoy a lazy Saturday spent tooling in the garden or re-landscaping the backyard with the smell of fresh cut grass and tilled earth in the background. (Because I want to do it, not because I have to!) But sometimes, I just need a rainy day. A day where I can snuggle down with a blanket and a good book or even my DVR. A day I can do this without guilt.

I'm not sure if it's Mom guilt or guilt guilt, but I can't seem to just give myself a day to enjoy myself without feeling like I'm slacking. Especially once the nice weather comes. There's flower planting, garden weeding, sun shining fun to be had outside and admitting that you took a "down day" and watched tv and vegged out all day? Sacrilege! You mean to tell me that it was 75 and sunny and you watched DVR'ed episodes of Celebrity Apprentice? (Okay, if we're talking about me, it's probably Warehouse 13 or Body of Proof.)

But if it rains? No one expects you to do yard work when it's 60 and chilly outside. It's a free pass from outside judgement AND your guilty self. I can give myself a break from the endless weekends of running errands, children's birthdays, baking for parties and gatherings, and infinite home improvement projects. Cooking dinners, washing unending loads of laundry, and packing school lunches. I feel like I never see the bottom of my to-do list anymore. But taking a day off is slightly akin to playing hooky from school. I might enjoy it at the time but tomorrow is going to be filled with guilt and remorse for all the floors that could have been scrubbed or the awesome parenting moments I missed. All because I was being selfish and having a lazy day.

Why do women feel like they have to neglect themselves to the point of exhaustion? Personally, I think it's probably unintentional. We're so busy taking care of everyone and everything else, we leave ourselves off that list. (Which is probably why we like our wine and/or chocolate. It doesn't talk back, have expectations of us, and it makes us happy.) Or maybe years of being the "weaker" sex has made us more determined than ever to prove we can be Supermom: able to leap tall piles of legos while cooking dinner and helping our kids with their homework at the same time!

Perhaps the real culprit is the post weekend water cooler talk. You need something that will impress on Monday when the rounds of "How was your weekend?" and "Did you do anything exciting?" make their way to you. You don't want to be the schlep who says, "Well, I spent 8 hours scratching my ass and watching Love It or List It on HGTV. I showered at 3 in the afternoon and then got back into my pajamas. We ate stale chips and bologna sandwiches for dinner. My family thinks I'm a failure, the kids have I-don't-like-bologna-itis, and I think the dog ate one of my slippers out of spite. But boy did I relax!"

So yes, it was a Horribly Bad, No Good, Rainy Sunday. To some people. To me it was a bubble bath, a chocolate chip cookie, and a cup of coffee wrapped in a fleece blanket and tied with a ribbon. (Forget brown paper packages and rainbows, these are a few of my favorite things!)