Monday Morning Blues

Mondays are hard for me. I’m not a morning person. But then I’ve mentioned this before.

Monday mornings are especially hard. It’s almost like we go out of our way to make Monday seem like the worst time of our lives by sleeping in on the weekend. Well, we sleep in as much as a parent can sleep in with two small children in the house, one of whom can escape bed (= not a crib) and likes to snuggle (= wiggle).

Anyway, it’s amazing how different 7:30 AM looks from 5:30 AM.

So Monday comes along like a bandaid that has outlived both its sterilizing function and its former resemblance to a bandaid–except for the still-stuck-tight adhesive. Every Sunday night I think, “okay, just rip the damn thing off all at once!” That is, just get out of bed without waiting to feel “awake.” Awake-ness will follow.

Hahaha… What a load of crap!

I tried that last week. Chatty Baby woke up early, too, as a result of inadvertently noisy blundering around the dark house. Baby and I both cried for the rest of the morning.

So this morning hubby and I went for more of a compromise: wake up early, but stay in bed until eyes are fully mostly partly open.

The result is that I managed to wake up smoothly enough to get up and get in a walk on the treadmill after hubby left for work, BUT before the kids woke up.

My heart bleeds for the Curious Pup not getting his walk in the sub-freezing snow-covered dark pre-dawn as a result. Really.

image

See how upset he is?

I then washed diapers, made the bed, got the kids up, and nursed the baby, all before I’m usually even willing to regain consciousness on a Monday.

So I’m standing there, about to change the baby’s diaper, feeling pretty good about my morning’s accomplishments, thinking maybe Monday won’t be so bad after all.

This is the point where the Helpful Kid (4yo), who was sitting on my bed with an impossibly large pile of stuffed animals, actually woke up (yes, she likes to rip wearable stickers bandaids off as well). She observes me swing the baby playfully as I put baby on the changing table.

HK: Mommy, can you swing me like the baby next?
Me: Oh, sorry honey. You’re a little too heavy for me to swing like that anymore.
HK: No, I’m not!
Me: Sweetheart, do not talk back to me like that. Say, “yes, ma’am.”
HK: (reluctantly) Yes, ma’am.

*pause for Helpful Kid’s pouty face*
*return to changing baby’s diaper*

In the background, I hear “No I not, no I not, no I not, no I not, no I not, no I not, no I not….” Once it filters through my working-quickly-to-avoid-baby-pee-on-me-and-all-baby’s-clothes concentration, I turn around and:

Me: Kid, what did I just say about talking back?
HK: I’m not talking back. It’s my song. No I not no I not no I not…
Me: That’s enough of that. Go put this diaper in the bathroom please.

*pause for HK pouty face*
*HK takes diaper then returns*
*I finish dressing and release Chatty Baby*

HK: (behind me) Yes I am, yes I am, yes I am, yes I am yes I am…. See, Mommy? It’s a song! Yes I am, no I not, yes I am, no I not….

Uuuuuuugggghhhh.

It’s going to be a long week. I can feel it.

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