Monday morning lament

Monday mornings are the worst part of my week. While most parents are heading off to work, or at least sending older children off to school and relishing their week-day routine, I'm at home with the same chaos-causing crew who has been running circles around me all weekend. And all week. And the week before that. The grandmas of the world love to gush about how wonderful it is to be home full-time with the kids, but they forget the endless tediousness of being home. Alone. With really loud children. Sure, thirty years from now, I'll have lots of stories about how grand it was to be there for my children's every moment when they were small. Of course, it a blessing to have these children and to take care of them. To be perfectly honest, though, it's tough to be thankful every blessed moment. When the kids and I all have colds, the weather is ridiculously sloppy and gloomy, and we haven't been out of the house in days, I don't particularly want to talk about how delightful it is to be a mom. I want to get in my car and go somewhere where I can accomplish something tangible. As it is, every project I accomplish at home is done to the accompaniment of young voices shouting about monsters and poop and followed by the same young voices undoing whatever I just accomplished. Whee. Don't let the talk about "paying the bills" fool you. The real reason there aren't many moms at home during the day any more is that this whole gig is, as I said, tedious. Really, who embraces that with enthusiasm? I'm just hoping that thirty years from now when I'm telling my kids how much fun we all had together, their shared knowledge that mom is just a little off-kilter will bring them closer together. See, it's all for the kids!