Mondays are hard.
Yeah, I know Mondays aren’t fun for anyone because Monday means going back to work for most. But for me, Monday means that everyone else goes, and I stay.
On Monday, Mom stays.
On Monday, he wakes up early and gets his workout in. Then he heads off to his work week. My big kids fight hard against their morning routines each Monday; regardless, the bus comes and takes them too.
The bulk of my conversations, my company, all disappear within an hour or so. In the same way, the events and excitement of the weekend also abruptly come to an end. Then the laundry, dishes, and all the mess that came from our Friday-through-Sunday fun come to meet me head-on each Monday morning.
And the little ones? They seem to forget the rules of the house, the rules of life, every single Monday. Having had a longer leash over the last few days, they’re ready to run. So, I spend most of my Monday as a mom just reeling them back in to reality.
Only recently did I realize this pattern for me, that it has oh-so-much less to do with hormones or circumstance, and all the more to do with a dumb day on the calendar. Monday – always eager to leave me feeling down, defeated, alone.
Ironically, I often think that some time to myself might solve the Monday problem. So, I slip away from the screaming for just a second. My biggest kid finds me. She lovingly reminds me that the grill’s still on… also, dinner is on fire.
Yes, home is where I happen to return each Monday. And home can be hard. Surely, Mondays simply suck sometimes…
But home can also be sweet, and sure, and safe – so at the end of another Monday, I can muster up a smile, knowing that this mom who stays plays a lead role in that.
(yes, even when dinner is served black)