Such a Monday-ish Monday
"Well, life isn't very good around here anymore. No clothes to wear; no raisins for the oatmeal. I think I'll run away." ...Frances in A Baby Sister for Frances by Russell Hoban
Many children around here a having a "Frances day". Mondays can be difficult in general, but some Mondays are more trying than others. It's as if over the weekend, they lost all memory of what they know and how life works. Consequently, when I remind them that they have chores and schoolwork, there is much complaining. Surely no other child in the universe has been made to pick-up dirty laundry, eat oatmeal and drink orange juice, or (the horror!) do math. Instead of being the calm and understanding mother, I turn into something more of a drill sergeant. (Yes, you can count be threes. Figure out what the next number is. No it's not too hard.) I have learned that Mondays are key to a successful week. If we can grit our teeth and get into our schedule, life settles back down into a normal (and calm) routine. But if Monday escapes without it being wrestled back under control, the whole week is sabotaged. I feel as though we're a living example of entropy. The worst is usually over by lunch, and so it was today. There have been just a few left over grumblings.
The littlest family members seem the most unaffected by the Monday malaise. K. continues to play in his toy kitchen, feeding us a non-stop stream of 'food' which he has lovingly prepared. We are hearing new words everyday, the newest being 'wummy' (yummy). For the past couple of meals, he has announced to me that this 'food wummy, Mommy!' It's hard not to smile at that even on the Monday-est of Mondays.
And a couple of baby pictures for the grandparents (and anyone else who likes to follow the babies' progress.)
Many children around here a having a "Frances day". Mondays can be difficult in general, but some Mondays are more trying than others. It's as if over the weekend, they lost all memory of what they know and how life works. Consequently, when I remind them that they have chores and schoolwork, there is much complaining. Surely no other child in the universe has been made to pick-up dirty laundry, eat oatmeal and drink orange juice, or (the horror!) do math. Instead of being the calm and understanding mother, I turn into something more of a drill sergeant. (Yes, you can count be threes. Figure out what the next number is. No it's not too hard.) I have learned that Mondays are key to a successful week. If we can grit our teeth and get into our schedule, life settles back down into a normal (and calm) routine. But if Monday escapes without it being wrestled back under control, the whole week is sabotaged. I feel as though we're a living example of entropy. The worst is usually over by lunch, and so it was today. There have been just a few left over grumblings.
The littlest family members seem the most unaffected by the Monday malaise. K. continues to play in his toy kitchen, feeding us a non-stop stream of 'food' which he has lovingly prepared. We are hearing new words everyday, the newest being 'wummy' (yummy). For the past couple of meals, he has announced to me that this 'food wummy, Mommy!' It's hard not to smile at that even on the Monday-est of Mondays.
And a couple of baby pictures for the grandparents (and anyone else who likes to follow the babies' progress.)
G.
L.
Comments
The babies are getting so big.