A Monday

Mondays can feel rough around here. I know, you’re thinking, “Aren’t they for everyone?”, and I guess I’m the minority. I love Mondays. Just like I love September and January and the beginning of summer and my birthday, I love Mondays because they feel like a fresh start. I love schedules and the comfortability of knowing what each moment should look like so I wake ready to dive back into regular life after a weekend “off”.

(Especially this Monday since it began the way I like them to: getting my best friend ready for his day at work. He was gone all last week at a work conference and oh! did I miss him!)

But it seems that no matter how I prepare or what our Saturday and Sunday look like, my little ones wake Monday morning a bit tired and not quite as passionate about our schedule as I am.

And I knew today was going to be extra special when the child who has been dressing under my care for almost 6 years turned into a puddle of tears when I answered his question by saying, “Yes, you must put a pair of clean underwear on.”

And then the baby, who woke just as the boys and I were sitting down for breakfast, wet through her diaper all over my lap in the middle of the boys and I reciting John 3:16. So that ended devotions incredibly promptly.

Somehow we made it through our morning chores and a few minutes of bookwork at the table, but I could tell everyone seemed to be on the verge of meltdowns so I declared the rest of our morning chores to not be important and instead it was “everyone outside time!” which is basically my wild card for everything. Life falling a part? Go outside. Kids wound up? Go outside. Mama needing a pause? Go outside. Need the kids to play well together? Go outside. It works like a charm.


Today it was short-lived and ended with a fight that included sticks and faces receiving blows and words being said that probably stung more than the hits (“sticks and stones” is a total lie) —

So we came inside where I was able to give hugs and kisses and sort through what in the world was going on and deal with two boys fighting, I turned on their latest obsession: Super Why (why did they rewrite the alphabet song for that show?!), and then we ate lunch, read books, and I put all 3 kids down for naps. (Yes, they all nap. Usually. And yes, I know how lucky I am.)

I then turned on some music, made myself an iced coffee, and went about the chores I ignored this morning: another load of laundry in the washer, plants watered, picked up the downstairs, dusted the downstairs with Windex for the second week in a row because I keep forgetting to buy new cleaner, vacuumed — and now that that’s done, I’m here.

There’s no profound point to all this. Just the tale of how a Monday morning went. It wasn’t smooth and didn’t go according to plan. I love plans. But I didn’t freak out in frustration like I used to when these days happened. So there’s that. It’s sometimes nice to realize when there are seemingly insignificant victories in life. Hey, I’m more flexible than I used to be! 

I call it insignificant, but it’s not.

And I’m grateful right now. That on the days when everyone wakes tired and out of sorts, that I’m learning to throw the schedule out the window, pull them close to my side, and convey to them that it’s gonna be okay. Let’s read one more picture book together, get a long nap in, and start over tomorrow.

Because tomorrow — everyday — is a fresh start as well.

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