Happy Momday to you

Monday should really be called Momday around here. You see, I consistently like myself a lot better as a mom on Monday than any other day of the week. Except, of course, on those rare Mondays when a mega-tantrum forces us straight into Thursday mom who is a lot less tolerant and doesn't take as many deep breaths as Monday mom.

Monday is the also best day of the week to tackle the library and the grocery store, a feat I wouldn't dream of on, say, Thursday. By Thursday, I've become that my-way-or-the-highway mom that I don't really like. Fridays are a relief. The house stays clean all day long since we go from Parents Morning Out to naps to Daddy getting home and sometimes even a Nana and PopPop sleepover. I hardly feel like I'm with them at all on Fridays.

Monday mom is the kind of mom I wish that I could be every day.

Monday mom can matter-of-factly say things like, "Dirty clothes go in the hamper" instead of barking in exasperation "Put those clothes in the hamper RIGHT NOW."

Monday mom can wait patiently for the 3-year-old to complete his morning routine and come down for breakfast. (By the way, he got dressed and downstairs on his own in record time this morning. So proud of him!!) Thursday mom is banging on the wall at the bottom of the stairs while a distracted and usually naked little boy putters about upstairs.

Monday mom remembers to smile at and engage her 1-year-old daughter during diaper changing. Thursday mom sighs heavily and sometimes even growls at the poor kid while trying to wrestle on the diaper.


Monday mom has the energy and foresight to have a fun lunch outside with the kids. By Thursday, it's whole wheat crackers, cheese and apples in the kitchen and a mad dash to get them up for naps. (I read in Penelope Leach's "Your Baby and Child" that this is perfectly acceptable, well-balanced meal for young children. This is my favorite let-mommy-off-the-hook advice EVER.)

Monday mom lets the kids linger a little longer outside. Thursday mom threatens time outs and/or a personal escort into the house for not coming after the five-minute warning is up.

Monday mom can fairly sort out property rights amongst tussling toddlers. Thursday mom just assumes the 3 year old is once again engaging in petty theft.


Monday mom administers discipline with a minimum of drama (at least on my end), a healthy dose of detachment and, again, a lot more deep breaths.

Monday mom physically redirects the 1-year-old from the dog's water bowl. Thursday mom just yells "No" from across the room and hopes like hell the baby responds to voice commands.

Monday mom can suggest with indifference to the 3-year-old that perhaps his little belly wouldn't hurt if he took a trip to the potty and put some poopy in it. (And when he does go, he always excitedly informs me, "I feel better." I'm waiting for this epiphany to become a working part of his little brain.) By Thursday, I'm strong arming him into the bathroom after watching him do the poopy dance for a half hour.

Monday mom is okay with the buffet on the kitchen floor and messes in every other room of the house. Thursday mom wants it cleaned up, pronto, so she can enjoy at least one day (Friday) with a minimum of messes in the house.

Monday mom can answer a hundred questions from her 3-year-old without losing her mind. Thursday mom starts asking questions right back at him.

Monday mom can playfully insist that her 3-year-old say please. (I cross my arms, smile and don't respond to his repeated his requests until he laughs and squeals, "Please MANNERS.") Thursday mom just isn't smiling anymore.

The confluence of a restful weekend, the kids getting Daddy time and Nana and PopPop time and some unscheduled time makes for a more peaceful beginning to our week. The further we get from the weekend, though, the more my brain is in the vice-grip of stress brought on by the constant whine and mess of toddlerhood.

I really do like myself much better on Momday. So what's your Momday?