An actual Friday

For the first time in months, today felt like an actual Friday. I woke slowly, hitting snooze more than thrice. I laid in bed, my girls surrounding me as the clock ticked past six forty-five, then seven, then seven fifteen. For the first time in months, the morning went smoothly. There were no fusses or fights about hair, or shoes, or breakfast. I ignored my bed head, my unbrushed teeth, my raccoon eyes from mascara that just won't wash away. We headed to school with time to spare despite the late wake up. We were smiling, and care free.
And it felt like an actual Friday.
After drop off Mac played while I enjoyed a quiet breakfast, just Entertainment Weekly and I. Knowing I had to pick up my mom, I let the clock pass nine and then nine fifteen. I chose hair over make up, flip flops over Toms, ease over effort. I walked into the day wearing my favorite jeans and new earrings, as if the two had been best friends forever.
And it felt like an actual Friday.
I strolled Target with my little sidekick. She dined on grilled cheese and a Dr. Pepper, while I checked out the finer points of the newest best sellers. I tried on shoes I would never wear because heels aren't practical in my world anymore. I bought a magazine, even though I have a stack a foot high begging for my attention. But I can never say no to one of my writing idols, and she was gracing this month's cover. I tried on sunnies and checked out handbags. It was glorious and luxurious, and everything I remember it being, in the middle of a day.
And it felt like an actual Friday.
We went to a late afternoon movie. Something I would have never attempted in my previous mothering life. But today, I took both kids alone. With promises of popcorn and slushies. Candy and chocolate. I wasn't anxious or scared or worried. And we, all three of us, were so content. So right in the moment. Something I would have never imagined six years ago, four years ago, two years ago. And it felt so good. It felt so right. If only for today. I'll gladly take it and the sweet memory that we did it.
And it felt like an actual Friday.
Currently, as I write this, it's getting dark. The street lights are on, and our neighborhood is still alive, with kids playing, adults talking, and me writing. I can smell spring and summer. The air feels right. The giggles and shouts sound heavenly. And the cares of the week are slowly fading away. There is no such thing as laundry right now. There are no dishes in the sink, even though I can see them. There is no such thing as a proper dinner or bedtime. Currently we are enjoying every last bit of this Friday, as it comes to a close, quietly whispering Your Welcome. 
And finally it felt like an actual Friday.