Ahhhh. It’s Sunday night. My couch just comfortably fit to my rounded, pregnant body and I just took my first deep breath of the day. I just put the kids down (for the first time of the night) and I’m sure I’ll be getting back up in a few when I hear some of the bedtime excuses that are so famous in our house.
I always look forward to the weekend. I mean, who doesn’t? How many times does your Facebook News Feed read “TGIF” from friends on Fridays? Everyone loves the weekends. I have grandiose expectations come Friday. I envision everyone to be disgustingly happy and our home to radiate with love. On paper, it should be that way. My husband doesn’t work, kids aren’t at school, movies, pizza and dates fill in our spare time and the kids can finally play with friends. Come Sunday night though, I’m thankful it’s over and wondering what happened to our supposed-to-be-perfect weekend.
We’re the type that like to consider Sundays as a day of rest, but for some reason, they never turn out that way. I’m looking at the evidence right now scattered across the floor. Not a whole lot of resting went on today. My daughter had a second-grade animal project due, which we finished right at bedtime. The scraps of paper are covering the dining table, furniture’s moved so the kids could have an obstacle course earlier, church clothes are hanging on banisters as they stripped layers off throughout the day and the dinner dishes are stacked by the sink. Oops, somehow we forgot to start the dishwasher. I’m just experiencing silence and peace for the first time today. Sibling rivalry really gets kicked up a notch on the weekends too.
Truth is, I’m always ready for Monday to roll around after we’ve experienced a chaotic weekend. I can’t wait to get back to the schedule and get the house picked up and recognizable again. Yep, I’m a fan of Mondays.
Do the weekends ever have you excited for Monday?
Read more from Mandy at mush.
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