Manic Monday

"What the hell happened here?"

Does anyone else say that to themselves as they survey the damage done to their homes over the weekend? Toys are everywhere, dirty laundry litters the bedroom floors, the recycling bin is full to overflowing with beer and wine bottles, the sink is full of Sunday night dessert dishes because the dishwasher has't been run.

I guess some of this is not a mystery. I am working hard at taking the weekends off to some degree. For two days, I try to halt the constant cycle of bringing down full hampers, loading and unloading the washer and dryer, laundering only my soaking wet workout clothes, lest they infect the rest of the hamper's contents. The daily running of the vacuum doesn't happen, resulting in dog hair and crumb covered floors. And my manic wiping of the bathroom services decreases, resulting in a urine encrusted toilet, thanks to Little Man's poor aim and solidified toothpaste ooze on the sides of the sink. H does not keep as close an eye on things like mittens and sneakers, so items that are vital for school attendance, have to be frantically searched for.

So on Monday, payback is a bitch. Yes, everyone hates Monday, but for moms its' a different story. Monday morning, everyone trudges off to work and school, brushed, cleaned and fed, and I am the one left holding the bag, tired, with a slight hangover, having to sort all out of this mess by three o'clock. Taking some time to downshift puts me so far behind, making me wonder if it's worth it at all. H listens to my complaints patiently, but I don't think he really gets it. Sure, some people work so many hours, they may feel like it, but I literally live at work. The way I try to explain it to H? "Imagine you sort out all your stuff for the week, knowing what has to be done on Monday, and you shut your office door for the weekend, heading home to relax. Now imagine someone breaks into your office and has party. Now on Monday morning, you not only have to accomplish what you set out to do this week, but also pick corn chips out of your office chair and beer bottles out of your desk drawers, and find the files you desperately need which have been moved to mysterious locations."

I suppose part one solution could be to have everyone keep track of their stuff, requiring my riding them constantly, which is SUPER fun, and really makes H want to make out with me, or, alternately, stay in weekday mode, which is nearly impossible seven days a week and/or with a hangover. Or I could round up the troops Sunday night for a house reorg, instead of having family movie or game night. Isn't a full-house cleaning what memories are made of?

So for right now, Operation Put the House Back Together will remain a Monday morning project. At least until the day I find some kind of part-time gig and all five of us race out of the house Monday mornings. Then we can all return home to the wake of the weekend tornado. But then I'll probably wind up putting my entire salary toward a housekeeper, but to avoid embarrassment, I'll empty the recycling myself.