I really dislike the phrase: "I have a case of the Mondays". How can one day, every week be so awful?
It all started with a horrible night's sleep. My mind was running some sort of irrational marathon while my body was doing it's very best impression of a 100 year old woman. In my defense it was a full moon and the Toddler was snoring like a 400 pound man.
Eventually, I fell asleep only to be woken up 2.4 seconds later. Ok, it may have been a smidge longer but it definitely felt like less. The sun was shining, birds, were chirping, the Toddler was energetic. So energetic that she bounced hard enough to make our heads collide.
After the stars I was seeing disappeared I begrudgingly flung myself out of bed. I was going to seize the day. Or have a seizure. Either way, I was up. "Momma, you want to have dance party?"
Uh, no thank you. Where does she get this unending morning sunshiney-ness from? Certainly it is not a trait inherited from me. Or any other normal human.
Luckily, Monday means open gym at our local public gym. 20 or more toddlers get together and run wild with balls, cars and climbing structures. It is my twice a week hiatus from being my only child's playmate.
Don't get me wrong, I adore spending time with the Toddler. She is a never ending ball of energy and comedy. I, however, have used up 33 years of said energy to her 2. We are not on a level playing field. I am thankful for the breaks I get.
We started to get ready for our day. I gave the Toddler a banana to occupy her while I did my morning bathroom routine. Within 4 seconds of me being in our not-as-big-as-it-should-be bathroom she had set up camp at my feet. She had snacks, toys and a crayon. The girl meant business. "Momma, you like your privacy?" She asked me.
"Yes, I do," I replied honestly. We have been working on learning about privacy and boundaries, especially when it comes to the bathroom.
"I like my privacy, too," she responded. Suddenly her sweet, slightly distracted smile turned into a full-blown ear to ear grin, " We liking our privacy together!!!"
She wasn't entirely wrong. We were in a private space, together and she was fully enjoying it. I couldn't help but laugh.
After I finished in the bathroom I headed to my room to gather clothes for the both of us. Half way through getting myself dressed my partner-in-privacy marched in demanding that I change her diaper. "I pooped," she stated in a matter of fact tone.
I did as I was told and found good news- she hadn't pooped! No, instead she had peed more than any living thing has every peed before. Her diaper had leaked onto her onesie. "Please be careful," I asked her, "there is pee on your shirt." She immediately started wiping the pee off with her bare hand. "Eww!! Now you have pee on your hand!!!"
"It ok, Momma. It just pee pee."
I wish I lived in a world where it was "just" pee pee. Instead I live in a world where pee pee is yucky and needs to be washed off from our hands when we purposely cover them with it.
Finally, she was dressed and pee free and I was dressed and grossed out. Back into the bathroom I went to wrap things up so we could head out. I asked the Toddler to grab her shoes and bring them to me. She bounced into the bathroom seconds later with purple glitter shoes and a frilly pink tutu. My clothing rules for our budding fashionista are that her outfit has to at least be seasonably appropriate and her foot wear must be semi-appropriate. (It would be entirely hypocritical if I forced her to always wear practical shoes. I hardly ever do.) Both met the criteria so, it was go time.
First, was the tutu. The Toddler doesn't have the best balance so she needed my assistance. I figured it would be easiest to sit down and help her. So I did. Right on a entirely peeled, half eaten banana that SOMEONE left on the toilet seat lid.
"I sawee, Momma."
Eventually, my backside was banana free and the toddler fully dressed. We loaded into the car and off to open gym we went.
I couldn't decide if my morning was hilarious or tragic. If I was going to spend the day laughing or crying. I guess the entire morning could be twisted into some big parenting metaphor. I will leave that up to you.
All I know is that I still dislike the phrase "I have a case of the Mondays," however, I do have a case of the Toddler. And honestly, I never want a cure.