Missing: the weekend
Last seen: from the distance on Friday
Reported missing: on Monday morning. As surely it shouldn’t be Monday morning again already?
How is it Monday morning again already? I struggle with this thought while simultaneously skipping in the door to the office and relishing the prospect of a day surrounded by adults, hot drinks that I drink while still hot and solo trips to the bathroom.
I am very lucky in that I like my job (for the most part), I have flexible working hours so tend to start work at 8am and finish around 4:30 and I also only work 4 days a week – taking Fridays off to be a SAHM for the day. I take my hat of to full-time SAHM as I just don’t think I’m cut out for it, ideally I’d prefer to work a 3 day week but I know I am lucky to have the arrangement I do already. Coming to work allows me to flex my adult brain muscles, grown up conversational skills and tweak my coffee and lunch preferences.
However, the weekends before kids were a different beast and I do miss them. I don’t think it’s any exaggeration when I state that I come to work for a break. I suppose perhaps the working week is my new weekend. I get to drink delicious hazelnut hot chocolate, eat what I choose for lunch, go for a walk around the park if the weather permits, have uninterrupted conversations with other adults and seek sanctuary alone in a bathroom cubicle when I need a moment to myself. That sounds more like the weekends of yesteryear than the new version. The new weekend is hectic, messy, chaotic but full of lots of crazy laughter. And tears, where there’s laugher there will inevitably be tears. If you sit on a balloon and bounce on it for too long, it will burst…
The weekend just passed whizzed by in a blur of birthday card making, party invitation writing, library visiting, bike riding, bus spotting, truck appreciating, tile selecting, meal refusing, cracker demanding, wine drinking and gnome painting. I definitely didn’t fit so much activity into a weekend before kids.
But regardless of how any weekend went, and whether or not I am pleased to be back at my desk, Monday mornings will always suck. There’s no fancy way to dress it up (unless it’s a bank holiday Monday, in which case the suck-iness will just be delayed a day). Kids who bounce out of bed at unearthly hours all weekend have to be dragged by the pyjama-d leg out of the warm cocoon of bed. Clothes that were neatly laid out the previous evening have mysteriously lost socks. Bags which were carefully pre-packed and arranged are missing vital parts that someone forgot to tell me were vital until we were in the car.
So Monday, I’m ready. And waiting for the coffee shop across the road to open…
Image by Fowl Language Comics