I Don’t Like Mondays, But Sometimes Fridays Aren’t So Shit Hot Either

9:45 a.m.: Realize that I am still in bed…at a quarter to ten. Rock ON! The husband has let me sleep in, the kids are happily not eating breakfast, and I feel awesome. This is going to be one sweet day.

 

9:47 a.m.: I tell my 2 year old daughter I love her.

 

“No mommy. I love Daddy. I hate you.”

 

Thanks pumpkin.

 

10:20 a.m.: Husband is mowing the jungle lawn, without being nagged asked. Kids are outside playing, I’m sipping coffee, checking my e-mail. Perhaps there’s still potential for a suck-free day?

 

10:26 a.m.: Doorbell rings. I’m in the washroom, taking care of business. Doorbell rings repeatedly. Business will have to wait. Daughter is standing, forlorn, at the back door.

 

“Where’s your shoes?”

 

Shrug.

 

“Where’s your dad?”

 

Shrug.

 

Apparently, husband & I both thought the other had the kids. We should probably talk more often. Because barefooted, wandering 2 year olds will get you on the news, dammit.

 

12:00 p.m.: Daughter anticipates the nap that is to come in an hour. Starts ritual chant of “No nap.” She pinpoints the moment I’ve managed to block her out, and adjusts volume accordingly. Can’t decide whether I’m annoyed or awed. Turns out, it’s both.

 

1:30 p.m.: With daughter asleep, son can’t see why I wouldn’t want to play cars. And by “play”, he means “watch him play till my eyes glaze over and I’m left trying to remember the Prime Ministers of Canada, in chronological order, to avoid falling asleep.” Son tells me I’m not very good at this game, and maybe I should just go clean something.

 

1:45 p.m.: The neighbor from the sketchy house on the corner knocks on my door. He’s looking for odd jobs. He’s carrying a squeegee. It looks suspiciously like the one from the Shell down the block. I’m guessing that if I’d wanted my windows done, I would have been supplying my own bucket, water and soap. I pointedly tell him I don’t keep any cash in the house. He looks a little too stoned to catch my drift. He’s got his 5 year old son with him, watching. Fuck.

 

3:20 p.m.: It is hotter than a crotch outside today. The kids aren’t buying that sitting perfectly still is the only way to combat the heat. I decide drastic measures are called for. I’ve never taken both kids swimming by myself. I can barely handle one of the little buggers when they’re wet and slippery. But hey, this day’s got nowhere to go but up.

 

4:00 – 5:00 p.m.: This may be the most perfect hour we’ve ever spent together. We have the entire teach pool at the Y to ourselves. The kids not only forget to fight, they invent games that incorporate helping each other and hugging.

 

5:00 p.m.: Despite my repeated warnings to use “walking feet” (When did I become a douchey kindergarten teacher? When?) both kids tear through the locker room. And wipe out on the wet cement floor.

 

5:12 p.m.: Return to the parking garage. As we get near our car, I see a minivan, unoccupied, with the side door wide open. Oh man, I think, I’ve had days like that. Poor woman. Wow, she’s going to feel so silly when she gets back to her car. Hey, small world, she has the same DVD player we do in the back of our van. And the same Spongebob DVD on the backseat. Sitting beside the same car seat…

 

Jesus tap dancing Christ.

 

8:30 p.m.: It’s pretty much over. We’ve stumbled through supper, a trip to the park that ended with a shituation, and (suddenly very necessary) baths. Then daughter starts crying in a way that is decidedly abnormal. I get her out of her crib in time to have a front row seat for the Technicolor Yawn. Son runs up and down the hallway, his gag reflex tripping, but damned if he just can’t stop staring at the carnage. Round after round of barf flies out of her little body. In between rounds, she’s trying to tell me how scared she is of The Cat in The Hat. She can’t hear my reassurances over the puking.

 

8:35 p.m.: Husband whisks the princess away. I send son back to bed. Strip off barf-soaked clothes, get down on hands and knees to clean up the mess. But son hasn’t gone back to bed after all.

 

“Uh, mom, I can see your butt.”

 

Oh son, in this position, thank your lucky stars that all you can identify is my butt.

 

8:40 p.m.: If you count the one at the pool (and I do), take my 3rd shower of the day. Hair and skin are declaring a drought. Every towel in the bathroom is soggy from earlier baths. And I step in evidence that the “shituation” that brought us home from the park wasn’t contained to the diaper, after all.

 

 

Oh Saturday, I have such high hopes for you. You better not disappoint like that bitch Friday.

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29 responses to “I Don’t Like Mondays, But Sometimes Fridays Aren’t So Shit Hot Either

  1. michael.offworld

    I really like the word “shituation.” I’m going to teach it to my boys.

    And connecting the barf-o-rama to Cat in the Hat was too perfect.

    Very funny. And scary. I’m worried for you . . .

    M

  2. I’ve had days like that too! Hang in there! At least the day didn’t end with you in the emergency room or police station! 😉

  3. I thought your van had been broken into. Luckily, you were just slightly aloof.
    Your day did suck, but it made for a well written, hilarious blog post that I thoroughly enjoyed.
    By the way, it’s 1:18 PM here and I just woke up. Just thought I’d share that.

  4. I feel bad for laughing at this, because it’s funny…yet, I too have had these days. Makes you wonder how much vomitus a small child can hold!

    I bet it was the overconsumption of pool water that made her sick. The ‘Roo has the same problem. Hope your Saturday is better!

  5. And I am yet again thankful to deal with teenager bullshit just to get out of being barfed on. And your story just made me rejoice again.

  6. Oh dear. 😯 “thank your lucky stars that all you can identify” totally had me rolling. 😛 You poor poor dear. 😉

  7. Oh shit that’s funny. After much effort and a serious head bonking with the pool fence years ago…

    “Allen what the hell are you doing?”

    Teaching the boy to swim.

    “You can’t teach him to swim by throwing him in the pool, you bastard!”

    Hey dad, check me out I’m doing it! Good job son!

    “You are so going to pay for this.”

    I know.

  8. michael: The bit about the Cat in the Hat was kind of surreal. “Very funny. And scary” If there’s a word that means both, it’s probably a German word. They’re so good at that kind of thing.

    arynsmom: Yup. Any day that doesn’t end in emergency is a good day. Knock on wood, I’ve only ever taken each kid once.

    talea: It was locked, the club was on – perfect, except for the wide open door. Not a thing had been touched. And 1:18 p.m.? Wow, that’s so nice for you, Talea. I’m so glad (f’ing bitch) that you had such a nice sleep in. What? What’d I say?

    lovey: The worst part was the husband analyzing the contents: “Hmm, that’s all the french fries. She didn’t chew real well, did she?” And thanks for the pool water tip. She actually did swallow more than usual – I never would have connected the two.

    Peter: Yeah, that’s a couple of hours of therapy I’ll be paying for. Sigh.

    Allen: You can’t argue with results, can you?

  9. I know several things.

    1. When your kids fall, do you laugh or fawn? I used to wipe out all the time. The parents would just laugh at me. They’d help me up while laughing, but still. So to this day, I don’t get embarrassed or upset when I fall, but the downside is I laugh at other people. And pain doesn’t phase me, but after so long I think it’s crashing.

    2. I am obsessed with these glimpses into your life.

  10. I feel like shit for laughing. But I did. 😦

  11. Rassles: I want to be a laugher. But I’m more of a “OhshitdidyoubreaksomethingItoldyounottodothat!” mom. Oh well. (And go ahead, obsess away. It makes me feel downright interesting.)

    Maria: Oh dear. I’d feel like shit if you DIDN’T laugh!

  12. This post could be used as a birth control option for some.

    Also, I think you subconsciously or evilly are trying to put Boomtown Rats ” I don’t like Mondays” into our heads as this is the second post in a week with such notions in the title.

    I will assume you are nicer than that and it is just coincidence.

  13. Just the title of your post reminded me of a conversation I had with a less than brilliant co-worker.

    Co-worker: Bleh! I hate Mondays!

    Beej: Yeah, Mondays truly are a lousy way to spend 1/7 of your life.

    CW: Is it really 1/7 of our lives? Really? I wonder how they figured that out.

    B: Well, if you think about it, there are 7 days in a week, and one of them is a Monday. So, I think you could just figure out that it’s 1/7 that way, no?

    LOL!

    I hope Monday goes better than Friday did.

  14. Ah, good times huh. I remember the first time I cam back to my van with everything open for the taking and thought I had finally really lost it.

    Now I see it all the time and think oh, she’s having a bad day. At least you’re not alone right? We’re right there with you sister.

  15. aj: You’re not the first person to think my life would make excellent birth control. And I have been singing that Boomtown Rats song for weeks now….except I don’t know all the words. Gah!!

    Beej: That, in turn, reminded me of a not so bright acquaintance who, upon being told that the correct amount of time to allot to hand washing is the amount of time it takes to sing “Happy Birthday” twice, asked “Well, who do you sing Happy Birthday TO?”. I told her that you had to sing it to yourself; no one knew why, but YOUR name provided the exact amount of handwashing that was right for YOU. Sigh.

    Chris: Glad to know it’s not just me. Cause some days, it sure feels like it 😉

  16. Girl that is one hell of a day. You deserve some kind of award for that. If mothering were an Olympic sport I think you would have taken the gold.

  17. Oh, God. Flashbacks! ‘son can’t see why I wouldn’t want to play cars. And by “play”, he means “watch him play till my eyes glaze over”‘ YIKES!! Been there. So often. Now that he’s ten, he still asks me to admire his leggo creations or latest on-line video game extravaganza. What the hell?!! Hasn’t he got the picture yet? Even my blunt remarks make no difference: “Read Mom’s lips. I do not care about video games.” Sigh.

  18. Like MojoJojo, I laugh at your pain!

    Here’s hoping your Saturday didn’t suck ass . . .

  19. Bluestreak: I would have been OK. Until they tested for banned substances.

    writinggb: Does it ever REALLY end? Because my 30 something husband still does it.

    tysdaddy: It wasn’t bad. Except for the lingering smell of barf upstairs.

  20. Sure, Ginny, it ends. Uh Huh. Really. Just keep telling yourself the “look at me look at me” refrain will end one day….

    Don’t EVEN get me started on the 44year old husband of mine who …

    Never mind. 🙂

  21. WOW!!! All of this in one day? I don’t have any children yet, so I can’t begin to imagine a week or even 12 hours in your barf and “shituation” soaked shoes. Who needs T.V. when everyday life is this comical. I really like your blog!!!

  22. jay3arr: Welcome! Not every day is like this…some of them are bad.

  23. Oh you poor thing! What a horrible day. I’d have lost my shit (…sorry.) But seriously, don’t you think there are days that just decide to fuck with you? I hate that.

  24. Oh, I’m much better now, Em, but thanks. The universe fucks with me on a semi-regular basis. I actually prefer it when it gets it out of its system in the course of a single day.

  25. LOL. God how I remember those days! Now my kids are old enough to bail me out when I get behind. What really amazes me is that I can actually look back at those days when the kids were young with some nostalgia. Must be some sort of self-psychiatric mind editing at work.

  26. Welcome, Alan! The “self-psychiatric mind editing” makes sense; without it, I wouldn’t have gone on to have the second one!

  27. You’re whole post was hilarious! Sorry you had such a shitty day.

    This particular statement jumped out at me “Son tells me I’m not very good at this game, and maybe I should just go clean something.”

    I’m not sure if you were serious or not, but this one cracked me up because my son has used these EXACT same words with me as well while we were ‘playing cars’. I’ve also been told I don’t play it ‘right’ … whatever the hell that means! lol.

    Thanks for the laugh and letting me know I’m not the only Mom who sucks at ‘car playing’ 🙂

  28. Kim: Welcome!! I read your blog a while back, then couldn’t find it, then found it again the other day. (You should all click on Kim’s link and read her tales of concert woe. Speaking of bad days…) I was, indeed, serious. That kid has never been shy about giving me performance reviews.

  29. Awww thanks Ginny! 🙂 I didn’t know you were a reader! That’s Cool!

    And thanks for the plug! I finally finished that tale of woe today lol.

    I think I first saw you on Laurie’s blog, then ‘refound’ you recently also 🙂 That particular ‘performance review comment’ had to bring me out of lurk mode 😉

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