Saturdays make it very easy for me to feel sorry for myself. When the majority of families are spending time together, I'm on my own.
By the end of the day I was cursing the restaurant, the chef, and this life.
I went to sleep alone.
When I woke up I was smothered by a smelly chef, a stinky pit bull, a naked five year old, a fat pug, and a princess. Saturday was immediately forgotten.
As we started our day I looked around at the faces the followed me and realized that even though I am alone the majority of the time, the love I receive when we are all together makes up for it.
Saturday's suck. They always will. But Sundays, Sundays will always be our day. The day when we truly realize how fortunate we are. The day that brings us together and reminds us that even though our time together is limited, our family is strong.