One of those Mondays…

So, you know that day when your husband has the day off, let’s say it’s President’s Day.  A holiday for his company, but not for yours.  So, he asks you to take the kids to school that day.  You agree because who would say no to that?  You go to bed early, knowing you’re going to be up early.  But, the best laid plans never work, do they?  At 2:45 am a tiny person jumps into your bed crying.  Perhaps they had a bad dream, or they were thirsty or some other reason.  Whatever it is, you don’t care – you want to get back to sleep.  Unfortunately, that tiny person has other plans.  He tosses and turns, and of course refuses to snuggle with his dad, so instead, he’s clung to you.  The ‘sleep’ you get that night ends up being from 9pm-3am.  You drag your exhausted self out of bed at 4:30 am.  You do your usual routine of packing lunches and then get the kids up.  Of couse, that tiny person who crawled into your bed and prevented sleep for 2 hours has now passed out and is impossible to wake up.  You finally wrestle your children into some clothes, and by the time you wrestle them into coats, hats, boots and backpacks you’re running later than planned.  You finally convince one child to get himself buckled into his seat while you haul the supplies for the day into the car.  As you return for your youngest child, you realize that foolish door whose handle broke last week has actually shut (you know, the kind of outer door that always refuses to close tightly, and subsequently bangs against the side of the house with each gust of wind that blows by).  And since the handle is broken, and the door has actually closed for once, you are stuck on the outside and your youngest child is on the inside – and neither of you have the ability to open the door.

That is when you throw your hands up in the air and tell Monday that it has won.  It’s only 6:30 am, and you are already defeated for the day.  Some loud banging on the door, and telling your child to wake up Daddy finally works, and he is able to pry the door open.  You not so gently suggest (again) that perhaps that godforsaken door be removed until a replacement handle can be found.  You finally pack the second child into the car and leave for the day.

I really don’t like those days…

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