“If age teaches you anything, then one of its lessons is certainly not to hurry if you’re already late….”
Sergei Lukyanenko, Day Watch

Let’s face it. No one likes Mondays. For the majority of the population, Monday mornings mean an end to a much needed weekend, a start to a long hard week at work, going back to school…basically unpleasantness. Monday mornings can signify unpleasantness.

In my house, Monday mornings are always a hit or miss. Lately, we, my family and I, have been doing well. We get up on time, get ourselves out the door without much issue, everyone catching the bus or getting to school and work on time. Yesterday was a total miss.

Storms have been pretty prominent in our area and on Sunday night or early Sunday morning, we had a power outage/surge that reset all of the clocks. Now, had this been a weekend, no one would have cared. But no, this happened on a Sunday. At *MY* house.

Roll over, looks at phone (which is on silent so I can sleep): Holy SHIT! It’s 7:30!!!

I jump out of bed, go wake the children. Youngest missed the bus…and is gonna be late. Again. Fuck.

Commence to running around trying to get ready while refereeing two preteen daughters and a teenage son over bathroom rights and how we all need to keep our hands to ourselves (yes…we STILL have to remind them of that).

All kids get ready in record time. Dog is walked and fed. Kids are dressed. Coffee is done.

Get out the door, get youngest to school, sign her in.

Get oldest to school (not late…SCORE!)

Get middle one to school. She swears she is late. I beg to differ. So far, I seem to be the correct individual.

Then it is my turn to sit in traffic. I finally make it to work 45 minutes later than I usually do and the day just seems to snowball into one giant mess.

It’s funny, really. Waking up late can throw your whole day into a tailspin from the moment your feet hit the floor. My routine was disrupted. The kids were arguing. My day at work was long and tedious and I was grumpy about EVERYTHING. I was mad at my husband for being himself, mad at stupid customer service people who weren’t going fast enough for me, mad at co-workers for asking me questions that only I could answer, mad at myself for being a bitch. But it was no one’s fault. No one was to blame for any of it. It was a fluke, a sometimes these things happen situation, the proverbial “Act of God”. (I am in no way  a traditionally religious person, but the turn of phrase seems to fit.) And this one small upset threw off the entire day.

Today is better. Today was an on time day. I even had time to stop for a Starbucks! But yesterday was just bad. Granted, it could have happened on any day, but it didn’t. It happened on a Monday. So I shall be more wary of Mondays having learned this hard lesson. I shall set back up alarms on my phone. I shall make sure the kids have back up alarms as well. I shall lay out my clothes for Monday mornings on Sunday night and make sure everything is set out for the kids as well.

Lessons, even small ones, should never be taken for granted. And yesterday was a hard lesson to learn. Mondays can never be trusted.

“Monday, Monday. Can’t trust that day.” The Mamas & The Papas

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