Monday, Monday

NOT so good to me. (For you young-uns out there, that’s a reference to a song by The Mamas & The Papas. And, no. Not your parents.)

Honestly, I don’t know what the hell the deal is. And I don’t know why I’m even a little surprised. Every time Monday morning rolls around, it’s like it’s our first Monday together. Ever. In the history of our family.

For some reason, everyone seems to wake up grumpy. Paige usually starts screaming about her clock turning yellow around 5:50 am. (Um, duh. Listen. It will turn yellow when it’s TIME FOR IT TO TURN YELLOW!!!) Blair wakes up screaming first for me, then for her daddy. Like clockwork. Pun intended. I obviously wake up grouchy. That happens every day.

I honestly think the turnkey moment is just us all waking up. Seriously. It all pretty much goes to hell in a handbasket from there.

This past Monday was no exception. I am not kidding you when I say I had to ask my girls 20 times to …  well, to do pretty much EVERY FREAKING THING I needed them to do. Hand to God I never thought I would say the words “Paige, you have to wear panties today. It’s a school day.” so many times in an hour.

There were multiple timeouts. Many fights between the girls. And more than a few shouts from me. I was done. I was out of patience. I was pissed. To illustrate, I texted my fellow preschool mama who consistently makes fun of me for using cookie cutters to shape Paige’s lunch sandwich into whatever the theme of the day at school is (SEE? I’m a freaking GOOD mom, Paige!!!). I told her I wished I had a cookie cutter of a middle finger. Because that’s the sandwich I wanted to send with Paige that particular day. Yep. I’m super-sweet like that. And, yep. I was talking about my 4 year-old daughter.

Then comes my favorite part of the morning: trying to get out the door.

After repeatedly asking the girls to get their shoes on (seriously – I really do start with asking instead of yelling), I lost it. The straw that broke this particular camel’s back came while I was literally holding Blair down with my legs as I tried to change her poopy diaper. About 10 minutes after we should have been walking out the door.

Paige walked up to me with a smug look on her face, stared me right in the eye and said, “I don’t even like you, Mommy. You are mean, and you are not my friend anymore.” Seriously? SERIOUSLY?!!?!?!?!?! Um, that particular situation may have ended with a smack to the mouth.

And then they both ran off in different directions. I yelled again that it was time to go. Nothing. I then warned them that I would be leaving in 3 seconds – with or without them. Nothing.

So, I went ahead and set the alarm, opened the front door, stepped onto the porch and shut the door behind me loudly enough that I knew they would hear it. Cue the screams and footsteps. And cries of “Don’t leave us, Mommy!!!!” and “Mama!!!!”

Sigh. That feels good. Nothing like scaring your children into making them think you’re abandoning them.

(Sidenote: Kids, come the freak on. Wise up. We aren’t ever going to leave you, okay? Even if we really wanted to, there are laws against that kind of stuff. Plus, you’d probably just wreck the house while we were gone, and then we’d have THAT to clean.)

Soooo … needless to say, things were fairly quiet on the car ride to school. It’s amazing how they can go hours without listening to a word you say, yet they seem to intuitively know when mommy is one smartass comment away from completely falling apart.

What’s that, you say? I haven’t painted a clear enough picture of our morning together? Hmmm…

Below is the conversation I had with my sister-in-law whilst on the way to school. Please keep in mind my van has Bluetooth, which means my children can hear every single second of every single conversation I have. Typically that means lots of innuendo and spelling. Not today.

Me: “Well, we’ve had another one of those Monday mornings. Timeouts, spanks, yelling, screaming. It was awesome.”

SIL: “Oh, I’m so sorry. I’m sure it couldn’t have been that bad! They’ll forget all about it.”

Me (tearing up): “I’m just so tired of feeling like a SHITTY mom. All the time. Paige is driving me crazy.”

PAUSE…

SIL: “Um, are your kids still in the car with you?”

Me: “Yep.”

So, there’s that.

We all trudged into school together (which, incidentally, is at our church. Which is pretty awesome. When I swear in front of my kids on the way to our church, that is.). I saw her teachers and told them I may or may not be back to pick up Paige. They laughed and said “It’s Monday – they are all a little crazy.” Why is it that knowing things are horrible at other people’s houses always makes me feel better about myself? Sorry, but it’s true.

I headed to the gym to sweat out my frustrations, and it helped. Until I went to pick up Blair from childcare and was greeted with the information that “Well, Blair was a bit rough today. She kept pinching and pushing the other kids around.”

What. The. Hell.

Stupid Monday. Thank God it’s over.

Until next week, that is.

4 thoughts on “Monday, Monday

  1. Pingback: Care Bear | feldmama

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