Monday, January 2, 2012

Case Of The Mondays

Today is the last day of my Christmas break and I'll be going back to work tomorrow. *Cue the world's tiniest violin, playing the world's saddest piece of music*

I'm not ready to go back yet.  

Isn't a 10 day break good enough for you, lady? 

No. 100 days wouldn't be enough! Sure, I get paid for going to work, but it's much more fun to stay home. At home I get to choose each day whether to do it all or do absolutely nothing. At work, I suppose I could choose to do absolutely nothing, but I'd probably get fired and I don't want that on my conscience. 

To make matters worse, we go back on a Tuesday. Do you know what that means for me? A case of the Mondays - two days in a row. After being off for this long, it's going to take awhile to get back into the swing of being prompt and productive and professional. Oh, and perky. Gah...

Huh? Two days in a row? Someone didn't have a Monday Fun Day...

It's like I bring these runs of bad luck upon myself with my bouts of optimism and mental fantasies that revolve around quality time with my doting husband and 3 impeccably dressed & well-behaved children.

Woman - you should know better at this point. The husband's attached to his nerd tablet and the baby has mashed potatoes in his Kewpie curl. Get your head out of the clouds!

So the plan for today, since Chris is off on Mondays and Mia's still off school, was to get the important things done in the morning and then go to the city for the afternoon to have fun. Maybe take the kids to the mall for a ride on the carousel and then go out to a nice supper, and then stop for ice cream on the way home (for the kids, I swear).

Thank God we didn't mention the idea to the girls in advance, because after being awake for all of 15 minutes, it was brutally apparent that this Monday was going to suck.

Down from your soapbox, are ya, Miss "Consciously Make Each Day Happy"?

The girls had a sleepover in my bed while Daddy and Miles slept in the girls' room. I had no idea that everyone else was awake when I rolled out of bed around 10AM. I can only assume that I was allowed to sleep in because I won't get the opportunity again until December. A sweet gesture, but it threw my schedule all out of whack. I hate a whack schedule.

Then, I walk into the kitchen to see a big pot of chili sitting on top of the stove. The chili I made for supper last night and covered with the lid then put in the refrigerator before I went to bed. The chili I'd planned to take for lunch at least once this week.

Guess who forgot to put the chili in the fridge before bedtime? I could've cried. All that ground beef - wasted.  Looks like tomorrow will be a PB&J day.

Next up, I thought I'd make breakfast for everyone one last time before my break ends. Chocolate chip pancakes sounded amazing, but guess who didn't have any chocolate chips? Bingo!

I offered up eggs in a basket instead: butter a slice of bread on both sides, use a cup to punch a hole in the center of the bread, place on a griddle like you're making grilled cheese, drop an egg into the hole in the bread, flip once, and enjoy. My kids love it and there's very little clean up involved. Well, guess who dropped the first egg out of the carton? Eggs are a real bitch to clean up. 

I only took this one photo today. My give-a-damn, like this egg shell, was busted.

From there, I really don't remember the chronological order of chaos that unfolded as the day progressed. It was a really long day.

None of the kids wanted to get along/eat the food they'd requested/take naps when they were exhausted/do anything they'd been asked to do. They did, of course, want to dump every toy box/beat the crap out of each other/smash Pop-Tarts into the carpet and top it off with grape juice/question every rational "Because I said so" explanation that they were provided with. I can tell you that my husband spent a lot of the day asking me "Have they been like this all week?" 

Mid afternoon, an SUV pulls up in front of our house. When strangers show up, my first thought is that we've done something wrong and are fixing to get subpoenaed or something. Then the paranoia subsides and I realize it's either a missionary or a salesman. Ugh! Oh, Monday, you son of a bitch...

"Chris! There's people coming up the driveway! They look like Jesus People!" Conveniently, he wasn't wearing pants when they knocked, so I got to answer the door. It's tricky, maintaining your composure in front of strangers that you don't really want to visit with while standing on one leg and using the other as a barricade for two children who would LOVE for these people to come in and hang out for awhile. 

She's probably going to Hell, refusing to welcome those missionaries into her home on a cold day.

They weren't even missionaries. They were Kirby salesmen. It was much easier to shoo them away once I heard that they were trying to sell me an overpriced vacuum instead of selling me on the Gospel. Can I get an amen, on that!

I did get the all of the dishes done today. They were done just in time to start plating up the delicious supper that our trusty crock pot had slaved over for 5 hours. My tastebuds were begging for a second helping, but that nagging voice in my head had "Remember your goal of losing weight" on heavy rotation. I stayed strong, but only because I woke up too late to work out this morning (I can't work out with Chris awake. I sweat a lot. He wouldn't be disgusted, he'd just tease the shit out of me.)

My Monday with the family was capped off by laying down with the girls as they began to drift off to sleep. I gave them each a hug and a kiss, and just as I settled down at the foot of the bed, Mia whispered, "Mommy... I know it's a tough job being the mom at our house sometimes... but I think you're gonna do an alright job..." Direct quote, I kid you not. "Gonna do an alright job..." Say what? I'm going to assume that was sleep deprivation talking because last I checked, I've always been the mom at our house and I've done a pretty decent job so far.

What a hack...Even the 6 year old can tell she has no idea what she's doing most days! 

Fine! Most days, I really don't know what I'm doing - and I'm fine with that. Just as long as it's not on a Monday. Or the last day of my Christmas break.