Monday, Monday

Monday, Friday, it makes no difference to me anymore. As a parent the weekends are not that different than the weekdays, sure my daughter is in school Monday through Friday and I should have enough time to attempt to get things done. I never seem to manage though, and I only have one!! I remember back in the day when Friday would roll around we were so happy, Friday meant going out drinking after work or going out to dinner, the weekends were for sleeping in, all weekend if necessary, shirking responsibility, hangovers, basically freedom. While the option to sleep in could be possible it isn't in my house. K still gets up early and demands to be entertained. Thank goodness D is happy to oblige, having missed out on such demands during the week. I guess Fridays could mean date night for us as well but having no steady babysitter or family around makes this tricky.

Now don't get me wrong, I love my daughter with every fiber of my being, I chose to be a stay-at-home mom and never for one moment have I regretted that decision. Sure, I have my moments but who doesn't? It's just that sometimes it's so hard. This I suppose is another one of those times. While I've suffered from sleep problems much of my life I am usually able to somehow function like a normal person. Lately K has been crying or calling out for me or D at the horrific hour of 2AM, either we relent or we make her stay in her own bed crying. It doesn't really matter, once I'm up, I'm up for hours. This has been going on for weeks and it's taking it's toll. I have very little patience, I am completely exhausted, I can barely focus on one task making the 50 I have seem impossible and the worst part: I just look awful! I feel bad when I snap at K for taking too long to get dressed or not eating but I'm losing it!! Then when I think I can't take it anymore she'll come up to me and kiss me, or tell me that she loves me, or she'll draw me the cutest picture, and I completely forget my misery. The exhaustion disappears (for a while) and I am able to refocus, exhale and find myself. I can't fix the looking awful part, that I'm going to have to fix with actual sleep.

So back to the weekdays, Mondays and Fridays still hold no difference for me. Fridays still mean dinner out just as long as the restaurant is kid friendly, the weekends mean sleeping in a little is actually possible if we give in and let the sweet sounds of Phineas and Ferb fill the living room and freedom now means it's OK to have pancakes and bacon for breakfast, lunch or dinner. Hangover's at this point are just cruel.

Of course every morning I open my eyes and get to look at my beautiful daughter smiling back at me. Every morning a man I met at a bar ten years ago tells me how beautiful I am, no matter what, and every morning I have the opportunity to eat pancakes and bacon if I so desire. I guess it doesn't matter what the day is if that's my alarm clock now.