I never used to hate Mondays. In fact, as recently as a year ago, I loved Mondays. Yes, I’m strange. I would be well rested from the weekend, I’d get all the laundry done, I’d go grocery shopping, I’d get all revved up for the week. And then crash on Tuesday, but that’s a story for another day.
Now, Monday is Day Of All Irritation. It’s the day A goes back to school and J is playmateless. I’m still doing everything above, but now I have a growth on my hip that wants to be entertained. And all day, as I’m doing all the things that need to be done, I have a soundtrack of “mommyplaywithme mommyi’mhungry mommyi’mthirsty mommycaniwatchamovie mommycaniplaycomputer mommycanipaint mommycanicook mommyreadtome mommyihaveameetingattheNewAndImprovedreccenter mommymommymommy…” This is interspersed with my replies of “noiwon’tplaywithyoui’mworking getoffthedog noyoucan’thavelunchit’sninethirty getoffthedog gogetyourwaterbottle thedogdoesn’tlikethat noyoucan’tplaycomputer gettheheckoffthedog noyoucan’twatchamovie quitjumpingonthedog noyoucan’tbecauseyourefusedtogetdresseduntilistrippedyounaked getoffthegoddamneddogalreadybeforeshebitesyousohelpme nowe’renotgoingtotheNewAndImprovedreccentertoday nonono…”
Needless to say, it’s driving me batsnot crazy. It’s ten til noon and I’m worn out. Tuesday through Thursday J is out of the house all day, and Friday is Friday so everything is lowkey and easy. But Mondays. Sigh. On Monday A goes to school and Tom goes up to work and I’m hitting the week hard and suddenly there’s no one to entertain poor J. It’s not his fault but dang. I’m wiped.
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