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?