I am reassessing my relationship with Mondays. Monday and I have not been friends for a long time, in fact it’s probably safe to say that I have always hated Monday.
I used to loathe her. I was go as far to say that she was a two bit whore, and I have.
Monday means the return of monotonous routines, business hours and to quote Bart Simpson, ‘Is the longest possible time before the next weekend’
Now I have all three little ones at school however, Monday is looking less like the return of monotony and the start of this beautiful thing, uninterrupted trains of thought, silence, the crime channel on the Foxtel instead of Disney, being able to eat a gay time without having to hide, or open the wrapper silently like I am breaking into a casino vault.
I was productive, I baked shit, I did housework while singing whatever song I wanted as loudly as I wanted, I did a whole heap of writing and I walked from room to room sighing and saying ‘How’s the serenity’ to myself until 3pm when it was time to pick up the little faces I was glad to see back up again.
I felt recharged, and patient. I had afternoon snacks organised and most of my to do chores were done. I missed my children and I was looking forward to seeing their little faces.
It wasn’t all smooth sailing though.
Our youngest first day at school was a little bit of an adjustment. There were tears at lunch over Barbies and missing her mum. That evening we were subjected to a solid hour of “Aahm NevAH going back to school. AH-GAIN”. *Foot stomp, *door slam.
Cabbage had basketball that evening, and we had planned on taking the kids out for a special dinner to celebrate the new school term.
Dinner I am just going to say, was a disaster. Three over tired, cranky and emotional kids after enduring an ENTIRE basketball match on the sidelines. Our middle child commentating the entire time as to whether or not dad looked like he was going to spew, because it was Cabbage’s first game back in a number of years and the evening was hot, also could he have a freddo, why can’t he have a freddo, all he wants is a freddo…
Our youngest telling our middle child constantly to ‘Shut up, stop talking about spew, you are so disgusting’ ‘You are never having any of my freddo’ and ‘I hate everything and school’
Our eldest, peering solemnly out from beneath his hair veranda enquiring if the game was over yet, what quarter is this? How much longer? What are we having for dinner, I’m thirsty..”
You know.. A typical family event that makes you want to scream and tell your kids that they are a bunch of ingrates and that we are NevAH taking them out. AGAIN. *Foot stomp, *Door slam.
So we decided Macca’s would be the best option, because there was no way we were forking out for a nice dinner, knowing that the kids would probably end up having us ejected from any reasonably priced establishment with any class, in the mood they were in. I was torn between wanting to tell my kids that dinner was OFF because they were all foul, and really not wanting to have to cook anything. So Macca's it was.
The next day was met with trepidation. Our youngest deciding that she would give School another crack like a trooper, as long as I stayed across the road at my sister’s house, then she would go. So I lied through my teeth and said I would, and we had no tears, only excited waving.
The weekend brought forth a new type of whining from our youngest. “When is it my school day again, can I go to school tomorrow, why is the weekend two days long?” & to be honest, when Monday rolled around, I woke with an odd feeling of relief.
I may have to continue my lie about sitting at my sisters all day until the adjustment period is over, but I sleep soundly, and don't you dare judge me.
So it turns out that Monday and I may just be friends after all.
Blogging for 30 days with;