Growing up, Saturdays were hang out and chill and eat pancakes day. My parents made their own maple syrup so it was a big deal. In the summer time we had them with blueberries because my urban-homesteading-inclined parents grew their own blueberries. (Of course they did.☺️)
My husband is a go getter kind of guy. After we got married (We didn’t live together until then. I know weird, right?) I found out that for him Saturdays were get-up-and-get-stuff-done kind of days.
It took some time for us to transition into something workable. I’m the dreamy artistic type and he’s the go out and conquer type. (Literally right now as I write this he’s on the phone with some work issue going on. It’s 7:22AM.)
Opposites attract I guess. 🤷♀️
Over time I’ve adapted to getting up early on Saturdays to get the shopping done before the rest of the world gets up. We spend the day on household chores or DIY projects. In the afternoons I leave him to his own and I go back to writing or editing my fiction or hanging out on WordPress. 🌞 My husband knows that. He knows I can’t keep pace with him through the day. He’s had to slow down so he doesn’t leave me in the dust.
Is what we do a tradition? Maybe. Kind of. Saturday breakfast was definitely a tradition, one I’m not involved in anymore. I remember it fondly but I wouldn’t say that I miss it. I don’t even eat pancakes anymore do to food allergy issues.
My parents remember it too, and I think that’s the most important part. It was quality family time that we could all depend on.
Darcy Branwyn 
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