December 8, 2016
Mondays in #SimmsCity are quiet. Well, they’re as quiet as Big Baby Judah will allow them to be. They’re quiet because Sundays are the opposite for us. Quick. Hectic. Dare I say, a little stressful, especially when Ron and I aren’t in a groove. We are active in our church and our Bishop often jokes that Sunday is a work day. It is. We live in Delaware, about an hour south of where service is held. We also arrive a little earlier than most of the congregants to help set up, rehearse, etc. So Sunday mornings are usually fast-paced. Diaper changes. Breakfast. Tugging stockings on. Wrestling with a tubby infant to get his pants on. Wondering why the pants you just bought your tubby infant only a month ago are a bit snugger than you expected them to be only a month later. Greasing faces. Making mental checklists to ensure that we’ve packed enough snacks, diapers, wipes, milk and toys for the children. At this point, I’m looking into rolling luggage for my children because I’m a chronic over packer (of course we need 10 diapers for 8 hours because what if one the children gets diarrhea and needs to be changed an exorbitant amount of times while we’re away from the house?). By the time Sunday evening hits, after we’ve hit the grocery store, I’ve cooked, we’ve eaten and put the children are in bed, Ron and I are pooped.
So Monday mornings, the children and I slowly ease into the day and week. Breakfast, play, maybe a little Sesame Street or Elmo’s World (yes, screen time…bring it on). I get down on the floor with them in what Fola calls “the room”. In my mind, the room right off the living room is my office. It’s actually become their play room. Legos. Half-clothes dolls. Books. The infamous white board. Teacher Fola teaches me a lesson. Judah rolls around and gums blocks. I walk away while he’s occupied. That last for 5-10 minutes until he realizes I’m not around and then he yells at the top of his lungs. We’re working on this separation thing folks, lol. I don’t take it for granted because I know there’s coming a time (perhaps sooner than I’d like) when weekday mornings will be less easy…more like Sundays. Fola will be in preschool next year. I may be going back to work. Packing lunches and backpacks. Commuting. Rat-racing? I’m not sure yet. For now, I’ll enjoy the Monday mornings as they are. So I’m singing in my best Lionel Richie voice…”That’s why I’m eaaaaasaaaayyyyyy. I’m easy like Monday mornings.” (You know you like that).