I grew up, like many latch-key-kids of the 80's and 90's, with a working Mom. Monday through Thursday were working days for my Mom and for us as kids, that meant a strict schedule of getting out the door for school, afternoon snacks of our choosing, and a panicked clean through the house before we knew she'd be arriving back home. I never remember hoping that my Mom wouldn't work – it's just what was. We managed to fill our time with friends and card games and bike riding and general mayhem well enough.
But then there was Friday.
Friday was the one day of the week that my Mom didn't work outside of the home and also was a day that we still went off to school. This allowed my Mom time at home – by herself – to clean, grocery shop, help in our classrooms, and generally prepare for the weekend ahead. I'm sure for her, without question, this was the very best day of the week.
I can attest that as a working Mom myself, time alone is precious. Painfully precious.
But that's not the point.
Something happened on Fridays. I still think of it like magic. My Mom had this incredibly homemaking ability to make spaces feel fresh and tended to and beautiful and loved. She was (and still is) like those fairy Godmothers in Cinderella that go around tapping things with their wands, bringing them back to life.
That's my Mom. And that was Fridays.
Us three girls would pile into the house on Fridays knowing exactly what was coming: the strong smell of bleach from the floors, Comet from the bathroom, Tide from the laundry room, supper from the kitchen.(And if we were particularly lucky that week, cookies from the dining room table.) Fridays would mean the refrigerator would be full, the furniture would be vacuumed, the throw blankets would be folded, the scented candles would be lit, and Mom would be tired, but happy.
Fridays meant contentment. Joy. Beauty. Rest. Comfort.
In later years, when money wasn't as tight, we would go and get coffee after school on Fridays before heading to our local Blockbuster to pick out a movie for the weekend ahead (yes, kids, back when you had to rent one video at a time from a store). We called them M&M nights (mocha and movie, obviously.)
If I could bottle the feeling of Fridays as a kid, it would probably lift my heart higher than almost any other memory.
While I always appreciated what my Mom was capable of, I was never able to understand it fully until I began managing a house of my own. Tending to a home – to its major and minor needs – its positively backbreaking. (In fact, as I type this, I'm nursing a sore back after a day of cleaning the root cellar, hauling boxes up the stairs, carrying laundry all around as I washed, folded, and put it away, bending over a thousand times to tend to the kids' bedrooms, and fulfilling the farm chores.)
And there's still a stack of paperwork, bills, and receipts on the desk that still needs looked over. And about a million other things.
I'm sure my Mom had the million other things too. I'm sure she never felt as peaceful about our home as I felt as a child of our home. To me, it was perfect. To her, it was most likely a battleground of needs, wants, budgets, and challenges.
(I tell myself that to comfort myself on how my own children will remember their time here on the farm. Dear Lord, please make it a joyful memory for them!)
My Mom labored all week, both away from the home and in the home. And yet somehow, in that labor, she managed to created a home that was modest, but full. Lived in, but cared for.
I know a lot of you work away from your homes. Don't fret. You still have the ability to create a wonderful environment for your family (customized as that may be). Just like my Mama. Others of you, like me, work from home. This can also cause a severe doubt in what we're doing as we labor in our homes and in our work, never fully knowing which one to prioritize. And yet others of you, also like me, are laboring alongside your family at home. This can cause all manner of chaos! But it's okay, my friend. Rest easy. Though it will look unique for you and for your family, you have a wonderful opportunity and ability to love on your family.
You have a wonderful opportunity to fill your home with comfort, safety, love, order, rest, and beauty.
It won't be easy or permanent. In fact, you'll have to tend to it every day.
Totally. Worth. It.
Time to go clean! And maybe even bake some cookies. It's M&M night.
Daisy
Absolutely beautiful! What a precious memory. I know the feeling.
Genie Tillery
So beautifully written Shaye. Both of my parents have passed away. Memories of Christmas past and times with family bring a tear to my eye. Every year we would travel to northern Ohio, a little town right on lake Erie where all our family lived, aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandparents. We celebrated all our holidays there with family. Your picture on the mantle reminded me of those days.
Patience Thompson
I loved this so much and it was so encouraging as I am trying to find a good balance between working part time outside of the home, plus running an etsy shop and the house hold duties.
Kiara
The blockbuster part really spoke to me🥲. My mom was a single mom and I was an only child for most of my life so every Friday we would order an extra cheese pizza, stroll through the blockbuster aisles and I’d get to pick out my favorite candy in the checkout line. We’d also play Spyro and Tetris on the PlayStation because the 90s! Haha.
Cathy Fialon
I relate so perfectly to this blog as I’ve always told my kids that Mondays were my favorite day because that’s the day my mom was home and when I walked through the door after school something good was cooking and the house was clean and fresh. She’s gone now and those memories of her spur me on in my life. So many blessings she gave to us that myself and my family are rich beyond measure. I always feel like the luckiest girl in the world. Thank you for sharing your mom too, made my day.
M H
I was a public school teacher for decades and I always felt the pull of trying to make the time for my work kids and my own kids. I understand why so many teachers don’t have children. But at the end, I told myself it was all so we could put them through college without them being burdened with student loans as adults and we somehow managed to do that so it was all worthwhile.
Julie
My sister and I talk about our childhood Fridays often. We are 70’ kids but on Friday our mom bought a large bag of our fav chips usually Cheetos, a 2 liter Coke, and would rent a small black and white TV. We had little money but felt rich because of her. Thankfully she is still with us and still brings joy in the little things. Thanks for the memories 💜
M H
I’m a particular internet no one but what I did teach for all those years was art and your photos are very much like Dutch Golden Age Still Life. And in those, the objects chosen weren’t just for the aesthetic value. They were chosen for their symbolic values like telling a short story, if you will. Maybe you might want to look this up.
Linda Mock
Lovely ❤️
Michele
This is a beautiful blog post, Shaye! Thanks for sharing!!
Stacey
I love this. I have heard you speak about Fridays in many of the podcast episodes and it’s so cool to see as an adult those memories which we hold dear. My mother was also a working mom and yet she always did her very best to stay on top of the housework and “do all the things”. Holidays always stand out for me since that would be when I was around her the most. It was the traditions for me. She was so consistent and I loved it. I looked forward to each holiday and the traditions she created for our family. Sometimes as a mom it can be daunting to create this environment for our children and, yes, pray to God that they cherish those memories.
Siobhán MacMahon
What evocative memories. Lovely!
For me it’s Christmas Eve with my dad. He was a family doctor in a very underprivileged neighborhood-this was in the sixties. He worked 24 hours a day, seven days a week unless he paid someone else to do it, which was rare. So whatever time we had him to ourselves was incredibly precious.
He took us out on Christmas Eve to give my mother a chance to take care of things at home. We walked the docks, over the cobblestones that still existed. All was quiet as we looked at the names of the ships, their home ports while he told us about the different places. The docks line the banks of the river Liffey in my Dublin home. In those days a small ferry, little more than a large motorized rowing boat, took you from one bank to the other near the mouth of the river for a pittance. It was so exciting to me!
Down the other back we would go, dreaming of far away places evoked by the ships.
Then the best part of all- tea and hot potato cakes swimming in butter in a cafe that first opened in 1894. The cafe still exists and is beautiful- mahogany counters and wall paneling, marble topped tables still in use, exquisite stained glass windows and open fires.
Normally packed, getting a table near the fire was next to impossible. On Christmas Eve everyone was either doing last minute shopping or home beginning the festivities. We practically had the place to ourselves so I got as near to the fire as I could and basked in the delight of the moment.
We went home absolutely tired out from our long walk and stuffed to the gills so it wasn’t long before our pillows beckoned. Which I suspect was the object of the outing, or one if them. My father adored the precious time with us as much as we did with him.
Four years ago I returned home to live after thirty years in America. One of the first things I did was to go to the cafe on a busy weekday morning. Imagine my surprise and delight when a table by the fire was waiting for me! I tucked in to a delicious breakfast and remembered those wonderful times.
Sometimes the most ordinary things are the mist magical when infused with so much love.
Elizabeth
Coming home to a tended to space is incredibly comforting to me, it was when I was loving with my parents and it is to me now as I tend to my small home with my large family. I feel so much pride when I can give that gift to my children and husband. I am so grateful for this community of women who similarly value these things. I often felt alone in my love of homemaking, but I don’t anymore ❤️
Holly Williams
Thank you Shaye, well said and remembering days gone by. ❤️
Amber
Mine was popcorn and the Sunday night movie special. I mostly remember falling in love with The Wizard of Oz, the sound of her shaking the pan while it popped, and mixing sugar and salt on the popcorn. My kids are grown and each year they tell me something they thought was special that I had no real idea it would mean so much. I guess my mom probably didn’t either.
A G
♥️
Hannah Thomas
Every time I smell bleach now I think of your mom, too. lol! Not because my mom wasn’t clean; she was. She just never used bleach. I have heard you say this on the podcast about your mom a few times and it never fails my memory when I smell it!
Heather
I was home with my kids for two years as a SAHM and homeschooling mom. For the past 5 years I have taught in a small private school. I often feel I give my best to my students, and only have leftovers for my own kids in terms of energy. On the day this blog originally posted I had taken the day off work to clean my house and prepare for my daughter’s birthday. I was working around the house thankful for a day to focus solely on my daughter (a rare occasion). I have been praying about whether it is time to come back home so I can give more focus to my own children before they are grown and out of the house. I am not saying this post was a “sign”, but it did encourage me that creating a wonderful environment at home is a reward for myself as well as my kids and hubby. Thank you!