Anatomy of a Saturday morning before kids: sleep in, sleep some more, keep sleeping, wake around lunchtime. 

Anatomy of a Saturday morning after kids: wake in the early AM with the toenails of your youngest – who has snuck into your bed at some point in the night – digging into your back. Scoot to absolute edge of bed and go back to sleep. Wake later to your son’s dog trying to devour your daughter’s cat. Throw dog out of room, go back to sleep. Wake later to your older son pretending to shake your hand as it dangles over the edge of the bed. Grumble crankily, roll over, and go back to sleep. Wake to toenails again, this time in your crotch. Roll back the other away, go back to sleep. Wake later to daughter whispering something about breaking the spell and kissing you, while her hair shoots up your nose and tickles you. Open one eye and glare. Go back to sleep. Wake later to your older son with a blanket wrapped around his head delighting the other kids with an affected voice that you assume is either intended to be an Indian grandmother or Strega Nona. “I am sorry my children. I have eaten my breakfast and now is the time of day that I fart on people.” Give up.