So Monday's always leave me wondering the same thing. Always.
I wake up every Monday morning wondering what happened to my weekend. What happened to Sunday the day of rest? What happened to Saturday morning cartoons in my PJs? When did I grow up and who made me responsible for my own calendar?
I need a Mommy. Someone to live in my house, do my laundry, make my dinner and tell me that I don't have the time or energy to go out and play because it's time for my nap. I need someone to remind me to take my vitamins, schedule my after work activities and give me positive reinforcement for being good. Yep. I need to be five again.
Not for a long time. Just long enough that I can turn into a prune in my bath water. Or long enough that I can nap till I have bed head. Perhaps just long enough that I can forget that it's Monday.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
2 comments:
I usually start to get the Monday blues on Sunday evening. I know it's too late to catch up on any sleep, and it's the night before the work week, so we're usually running around, folding laundry, getting Ben's stuff ready for the week, etc. I also get a little sad about the end of the weekend when I crawl into bed Sunday night, because I know that there's no way I can sleep in. There's something so depressing about having to set your alarm.
The only time I ever want to go back to being a kid is when I'm sick. Because then I want to have my mommy feed me tomato soup with noodles and jello and take my temperature and sit with me while I watch movies I've seen hundreds of times.
Post a Comment