There are so many things floating about in my head on Monday mornings. Usually none of them are pleasant. Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not one of those doom and gloom Mondayers who groan that it's the beginning of another week and bring on Friday. For this housewife, Fridays are really a non-issue. In fact, they're normally my least favorite day. It's the last day of the school week. My kids will be home in eight hours to destroy all my best housecleaning efforts. Which is what leads to me to my Monday morning complaint...the weekend BOMB!
This Monday morning has been no different than any other. I hoisted myself out of bed for my cup of coffee before surveying the weekend fly over devastation. I can not say with all certainty when it hits. Were we at a friend's house last night and stumbled past it when we came home? Did we run to a bomb shelter and all suffer a strange bout of family amnesia? How does this disaster occur to my perfectly well-kept, orderly household every weekend?
Socks and shoes everywhere - AND, several pairs from each family member. Half empty water bottles. Coffee cups (which would be one of my many contributions). Dog toys. Wii games. Toothbrushes and toothpaste laying out and open on bathroom sinks next to blow dryers and tissue and towels on the bathroom floors. Unmade beds. Dirty dishes in the sink. Family room furniture helter skelter.
Depending on how I slept, the strength of my coffee, and if Austynn made it to school without throwing a temper tantrum (which, might I add, he had a doozy this morning), can determine how well I recover from the initial shock. Throw in stepping in dog pee in my bare feet...I'm thinkin' this woman is going back to bed and calling it a day.