When the work never ends ...

... does the fun ever begin?

Some day, we’ll have our weekends back. But what will we even do?

These thoughts flutter through my mind once in a while as Phil and I consider the “empty nest” years. They’re not here yet but they’re in sight— faint, on the horizon. Our daughter is a high school senior, our son a sophomore, and soon our evenings and weekends won’t be dominated by kids’ activities. We’ve never really known married life without children. What is that even like?

For the last few years, fall has been our busiest season. This year, September has been a blink. Soccer and band practices, football Friday nights—me in the concession stand—soccer games on Saturday mornings. Days at the bookstore. Substitute teaching work usually picks up in mid-September, and Phil was unexpectedly on overtime every Friday in September, so the schedule has felt extra full and not in the life-giving ways.

We’ve been an all-work-and-not-a-lot-of-play kind of family for a while. We struggle to make ends meet and keep the house clean and keep up with all.the.things. (And I’m talking bare minimum kinds of things, not like keeping up with the Kardashians.) We didn’t take a vacation this summer for several reasons—college visits for one; money, the other.

But three of us squeezed in a beach day just before school started, although that trip was not without its problems. Everything about summer felt like work. I mean, not everything, but there were few moments of true rest.

I have felt that lack as summer has rolled into fall. The work never seems to end. Our weekends have been more about work than fun. And sometimes we just work till we’re tired and then we sleep.

This is not the life I want. Nor the one I need.

I have a lot of trouble with fun. I’ve never been the “fun” one. I like to have fun, but sometimes I forget to include it in my life. Plus, a lot of what I find “fun” involves reading and staying indoors, but it’s not always fun to be in the house we’re too tired and busy to clean.

Even when given the opportunity to do something fun, I’ve lamented the “lost time” for housework.

All work. No play. No fun. That’s no way to live.

//

We’d already had a busy weekend with an early Saturday wake-up for soccer when we set the alarms early again on Sunday morning to drive an hour and meet friends to go kayaking and canoeing on the Susquehanna River.

The four of us were unusually available—no work or volunteer responsibilities—and it had been a while since we’d done anything together. Those moments are waning in opportunity, and I want to grab them when I can.

Still, I looked at the state of the house and the week ahead, and I grumbled about not knowing how we were going to get it all done. I actually considered staying home. But the pull of the outdoors and time with my family was too strong.

I’m so glad I left the dishes and housework behind.

When we got to the river, the fog hung low, and there was a chill in the air. I felt under-dressed. Fall weather hadn’t been consistent, so I wore what I thought I’d need for an 85-degree day. The river was calm and deserted, although I know there was lively activity below the surface. It was mostly us and the birds.

We divided into our vessels—a few kayaks, a couple of canoes—and paddled a third of the way across the river to a piece of land where we went ashore, built a fire and ate breakfast burritos, warmed in the fire, in the middle of the river.

It was magical. I can’t say I’ve ever eaten breakfast in the middle of a river before, and now I want to do it again.

We paddled the next portion to a campground where we played a round of mini-golf, grabbed cold drinks, and snacked a bit. I’m not much for camping, either, but it seemed really peaceful. Will I want to try that, too, in the years ahead?

By the time we readied for the return trip across the river, the sun shone brightly and the fog had burned off. The views were completely different. It was like traveling a new path.

Phil and I lagged behind the others. My muscles and abs burned as I used them in ways I hadn’t in a long time. But there I was doing it.

Absent clocks and responsibilities, I found that time meant nothing on the river. The return trip could have taken 20 minutes or two hours. I didn’t notice. My only measure of how long we’d been gone was the pain I was feeling in my body. But it was a good kind of pain.

For a few glorious hours, I wasn’t thinking about all the work I need to do. I was thinking about the butterfly that hovered over my head. And the heron wading in the middle of the river. Anytime I’m near the Susquehanna, I think about the people who lived here first, the ones who gave the river its name. This time was no different.

Phil and I talked as we paddled. Calm, unhurried conversation because there was nowhere to go, nowhere else to be. Maybe kayaking could be a thing we do when the kids are gone?

It was barely noon when we began to pack up, sun-kissed and weary. We stopped for lunch, dropped off a friend at his house and were home before three.

I showered and lay down for a “short” nap. I woke up two-and-a-half hours later, a little panicked that I’d slept so long.

But I had dinner ready by 6. I ate, washed some dishes, and prepped some food for the week ahead. I stayed up till 10 waiting to hear who was going to be this year’s Super Bowl Halftime Show artist.

When all was said and done, I had fun. AND the work didn’t suffer from my absence.

Typically, I’m a work-before-play kind of person but when the work never ends, I become an all-work-and-no-play kind of person.

What I’m realizing is: the work will always be there.

The fun? Not so much.

So, I’m going to try to let this experience change me. I need to say “yes” to more fun, even if the work isn’t done.

How about you: what’s the last fun thing you did?