You may be cool, but are you Lucy in the garden rocking Daddy’s sunglasses and the cutest overalls ever cool?

I’m certainly not.

On a serious note, I understand now, in a way I never have before, exactly why weekends are so very precious. It’s really our only time as a family to all be together without worries and errands and chores and deadlines. I’m having to totally rethink how I approach my weekdays – how I plan, how I organize my time, and how I fit in all the little tasks that used to be no big deal.

I don’t want to do laundry on Saturdays. I want to go to the beach.

I don’t want to meal prep on Sundays. I want to take Lucy to the playground, or to her grandparents’ house.

Or, sometimes, I just want to sit and do nothing on a Sunday morning while Lucy plays with Graham, because he doesn’t have a lot of time during the week to sit with her in her world and be part of her make-believe.

Soon – sooner than I’d like and in the blink of an eye – she’s going to be thirteen and I’m going be old news. Then she’ll be eighteen and going off to college. Then she’ll be an adult, with a life of her own.

These toddler days are brief and special. I want as much time with her as I can get.