Saturday Mornings

When Matt and I were dating he would woo me with stories about what life would be like married to him. Doesn’t everyone do this when they are trying to convince someone to spend the rest of their lives with them? We had so many of the same hopes, plans and ideas. We would raise our kids in a godly home. We would travel as much as time, energy and money would allow. We would have a large family (although we didn’t quite agree on what the definition of “large” was. I was thinking three or four. He wanted 13!). We would eventually send our kids off to college (undoubtedly Purdue, of course), not become grandparents until we are at least 60 and then grow old together.




One of these great ideas, on a much smaller scale, was Saturday breakfast. When we were courting, Matt told me how much he couldn’t wait until we were married so that he could get up and make me a huge breakfast. Scrambled eggs, chocolate chip pancakes, hashbrowns with cheese, sausage patties, cappuccino, orange juice. Obviously, he had already figured out my love language was food! I was pretty excited. I even had hopes that this huge and wonderful breakfast would sometimes be delivered to me in bed. I mean, a girl can dream. Can’t she? I even dreamt about him making this breakfast for me with our future kids at his side, making a mess in the kitchen while making memories for a lifetime.



But then we got married and reality hit. It wasn’t until then that I realized that he didn’t quite mean breakfast. Now, don’t get me wrong. He has full intentions of making me this huge meal. The problem is that if Matt doesn’t have to be out of bed he is not about to get out of bed before 10 AM. That includes Saturdays. Especially Saturday! So I am up at my regular time and eat my cold cereal breakfast. I get the kids up and feed them. We go on with our day.



Then when Matt does finally get up, he still makes me my huge and wonderful “breakfast”. (We just call it lunch.) We are both happy with the turn-out. He sleeps. I eat. Sure, it doesn’t happen the way I had imagined it.  But then again does life ever turn out the way we thought it would?  When life gives you lemons just make lemonade.  Or when life gives you oranges just make orange juice for breakfast at noon.