Why I don’t like Mondays


Even more than Sunday night, it signals the real and true, proper end to the weekend. It’s the most days away in the countdown to the weekend. And really, I’m a weekend kind of gal.

But actually, it’s more than that.

Let’s take for instance, the upcoming Monday.

Which also happens to be the Back To School Monday. My schedule at the moment looks something like this:

  • Alarm will ring at 6am.
  • I will slap around, knocking various items off the bedside table until I hit ‘snooze’ on the obnoxious, beeping instrument.
  • The obnoxious beeping instrument will invade my dreams again.
  • And again.
  • I will give in to my bladder and arise from my bed to realise I have only 20 minutes before I need to leave the house and face the traffic.
  • Swearing will be heard.
  • I will run into my sons room and yell that he should, “Get up!” while trying not to let pee run down my leg.
  • I will go to the loo, check my son is dressing, see he is not, yank the covers off him, yell, run out of the room and throw clothes in a haphazard manner on myself.
  • I will re-enter his room and tell him to take off yesterdays dirty clothes while flinging something clean at him.
  • I will watch him dress and simultaneously hear the clock ticking.
  • I will stick my head around the girls bedroom door and hiss, “Good morning, are you up?”
  • We will tear down the stairs, hurl breakfast in our face-holes and I will forget to take my tablets.
  • I will run back into the kitchen, take my pills, convincing myself an empty stomach is of no importance, then notice the clock saying we should have left five minutes ago.
  • I will send my son to brush his teeth and he will wander into his bedroom and look at a book.
  • I will dart up the stairs, drag him into the bathroom, stand over him while he cleans his teeth, and squirt water at him, in an attempt to wash his face.
  • We will put our shoes on then discover that I have, naturally, lost my keys.
  • We will jump in the car, hair unbrushed.
  • We will leave our street and promptly find ourselves behind a tractor.

Now you may be fooled into thinking that my exhausting day is drawing to a close. You’d be wrong. It’s now around 7am.

  • After peeping, swearing, dodgy overtaking manoeuvres, I will finally drop my son off at his 7.20 appointment in town. At 7 .30.
  • I will grimace, turn the radio up and head back into even more horrendous traffic.
  • Stuck in a traffic jam, I will resort to ‘car-dancing’.
  • Finally home, I will kiss my husband fondly, as I find he has given the littlest one the first of her three breakfasts and sorted out her clothes.
  • I will say goodbye to the elder two and wish them a nice day.
  • I will re-sort-out the little ones clothes.
  • I will encourage the little one to eat her subsequent breakfasts somewhat faster, down a much needed coffee, brush my hair and my teeth.
  • Exasperated, I will start a race between my four-year-old and myself, “Who will be first, the dresser or the snack-maker?”
  • I will avoid winning and acknowledge my husband leaving with half a kiss.
  • Teeth brushed, we will leave the house in a deep discussion as to why a jacket is necessary for Kindergarten.
  • I will abandon my daughter at the Kindi, run back to the car and drive to my sons new school for a 9am meeting with the head teacher and his new class teacher to discuss his ADHD problems.
  • Luckily, I won’t have had time to get nervous.
  • I will appear, red-faced and only one second before my appointment’s due.

I have no idea how the appointment will go. I feel a little sick just thinking about it.

  • Having left the meeting, I will drive home and have a coffee.
  • I will check my emails and feel some despair as I look at my bulging inbox.
  • I will throw some washing in the machine, answer the phone, run through the house showing it the hoover, load the dishwasher and try to convince myself that I have completed the housework.
  • I will avoid eye-contact with the fridge, the mop and the dust.
  • I will appear at the Kindergarten in the last minutes of pick-up time and be chastised by a child who wanted to be picked up ‘early’.
  • I will return home as will the elder two, accompanied by lists of what needs to be purchased for the next day.
  • I will eat a chocolate bar as I attempt to find enough energy to make lunch.
  • I will fail, so I’ll ask one of those chatty girls to make me a coffee, before they start their homework.
  • I will make lunch, eat lunch, (want an afternoon nap), get caught up in a conversation with the girls and forget the time…
  • Once I notice the time, I’ll jump six feet in the air, disregard the sticky table, nip to the loo, hunt for my keys then abandon the house for a doctors appointment in a neighbouring town at 3pm.
  • That bloody tractor will be doing it’s rounds again.
  • I’ll sit in the waiting room, all jittery, as I’m fully aware that I have to be in a completely different town in one hour, to pick up my son.
  • My daughter will nervously put out her arm to be injected and I’ll try not to look at the clock as everyone else prattles on.
  • We’ll race back to the car, then attempt our way back through the traffic again.
  • At 4pm, I’ll be parking the car far away, as I can’t seem to negotiate the tiny spaces in the nearby car park.
  • Then we’ll all run to my son.
  • Already five minutes late, I’ll head to the next meeting, due to start at 4.30pm.
  • I’ll sit through the meeting for an hour and a half.
  • Pick up the children.
  • Drive to the shopping centre.
  • Drive around and around the car park looking for the right parking space.
  • Park the car.
  • Accompany every other mother in Southern Germany through the stationers in an attempt to purchase each child’s listed items for the next day.
  • After queuing for half an hour, I will pay for my incomplete goods.
  • I will be assured they will have more X, Y and Z in stock tomorrow.
  • I will try to find my car in the car park.
  • I will pick up my husband on the way home and beg him to make the dinner.
  • At home I will realise: the homework still isn’t finished, the new school stuff still has to be labelled, the washing is still in the machine and I’ve been wearing my pullover inside out all day.

But the thing I really don’t like about Mondays, is that it sets the example for Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Thursdays and Fridays.

Did I already tell you, that I’m a weekend type of gal?

32 thoughts on “Why I don’t like Mondays”

  1. I’m exhausted. All I can say, Sarah, is that mercifully, they do grow up. And leave home. And you suddenly find yourself wondering how all those interminable muddled days and weeks and years disappeared in a flash.

    Good luck with the new term!

    1. It’s all the appointments they have, and everything that is expected of you as a parent. I by no means do the half of it. But at times I’m still overwhelmed!

      Today I’ve been writing lists to help me organise myself for the following eight weeks. I feel a little more structured now🙂.

      I love the holidays.

      1. Well, it’s funny how you say that…

        I actually found myself with a free whole hour yesterday – and by golly could I get a lot done. Bliss!

        And the Thursday timetable is very obliging – my son has classes until 17.20!!!😉

    1. I’m sure if I weren’t such a forgetful head, things would run much more smoothly.

      I knew other mothers would at least partially relate to this post.🙂

    1. Technically I should be happy as Larry right now, after all, it’s Friday evening… But actually I’m grieving the passing of the summer holidays (which I’d been counting down to all year).

  2. Love my kids but don’t miss the hectic schedule and with five I understand your dilemma of how to get from here to there and back again and not miss a beat. I often wondered how to do 3-4 conferences in the same night at different schools. No wonder I was tired all the time. This is really the way it is and you have said more than a mouthful. Love this one!

    1. I always try to ensure that we have some more relaxed days, but teachers/doctors etc seem to try and mess up my plans!!😉

      It is hectic, isn’t it? When my daughters discuss having kids I overhear them say that four are just too many!!

  3. Wow, I now feel a lot better about the mornings at my house, thank you!
    Will you take a few pieces of advice though? How about not hitting that snooze button and just getting up? And sabotating that tractor so it’s out of your way? Just a suggestion about the tractor, I hope your farmer neighbor doesn’t read your blog.

    1. 🙂

      The problem in the morning is I’m a really deep sleeper, which has the advantage that I don’t need as much sleep, but it always takes me a while to actually come round!! Once I’m awake though, I’m awake and recharged. My husband’s a really light sleeper and needs loads of sleep. Sometimes, I awaken before the alarm goes off and then I’m good. But it’s only sometimes.

      Sabotaging the tractor sound like an idea.😉

      1. Yes, I am guilty of that on occasions it’s true. Sometimes I am really stressed and can’t sleep, so I read to relax. You don’t need to worry, I do get enough sleep.

        Thanks for your comment.

  4. Earlybird’s right, they do grow up, but firstly into teenagers. If you think getting them up now is hard…

    This post is really funny and pretty well sums up the “joys” of parenting perfectly.

    1. 🙂.

      YES!! The two teenagers would become vampires if I let them – sleep all day and be awake half the night. The youngest teen (13) used to be up half an hour before me in the morning, but now she really struggles to rise off the bed.

      My son is 11 and already problematic (except during holidays and at weekends). I dread to think how he’ll be in a year or so’s time!!!

      I’m glad you liked the post.

  5. That sounds exhausting. Actually I’m exhausted just reading it.

    I found out this morning why I’ve been late for work every day for the past 2 weeks. I don’t know how it happened but the clock I use for my alarm clock was 10 minutes slow. Add to that ‘just 5 more minutes’ a couple of times and hey presto I’ve been getting out of bed later than I’m supposed to have left the house.

    Every morning I have watched the train pull away as I arrived. I’d catch a later train then watch the connecting bus pull away as I ran for it.

    I need a holiday.

    1. Oh no!!

      Could the battery be running low? Perhaps you’ll have to treat yourself to a new alarm clock. Not much of a treat though, is it ?(Buy yourself some flowers and chocolates too :-)).

      My husband bought us radio controlled alarm clocks, they update themselves everyday, somehow (I don’t really know the technical know-how) but it means they always tell the right time.

      I brought one of them to Britain a couple of years ago when I came over for a wedding. I had to leave for the airport at around 4am but it was the night the clocks changed. I had no idea how the alarm clock would react because I didn’t know when it would reset itself. It turned out it did reset itself but then confused itself as to which time zone it was in and woke me up an extra hour early. I ran around getting ready, then discovered through the news channel I was too early. But I was really pleased I wasn’t an hour too late!

  6. I feel thoroughly exhausted just reading that. I am so glad that, as a teacher, I hand the children back to their parents at 15:05.

    I’m not a morning person either – I tend to leave the bed like a rocket at 07:30 and rush about getting ready. We’re usually out of the door by 07:45. I pride myself on the 15 minute turn around. (Then again, there are no children involved).

    1. It is very exhausting. Mornings are particularly difficult in that my son needs a lot of support ‘getting ready’.

      There’s also a danger in getting up to early I’ve found – especially with kids. If you’re up too early then things have time to happen.Like they have time to swing on their chair and knock the glass/cereal/juice over. They hide their shoes. Wander off and read a book and forget to actually brush their teeth. They take important stuff out of their school bag. They sit down for a nice long pooh. They decide to cook porridge…
      The list goes on!

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