Mondays. Bah.
It's such a common condition that it's almost pointless to say that you don't like Mondays. It's like saying that you don't like the taste of manure.
I always thought that, in order for Mondays to suck, you had to have a Monday to Friday job to go to. I'm home every day now, seven days a week, what should make Mondays any different?
A lot, apparently.
I thought it was a coincidence at first, so I didn't think too much of it. I just seemed to be more down some times than others, I never really noticed the day. It probably would have taken me even longer to notice if it weren't for the fact that we have a standing Monday night date with some friends of ours, and suddenly, after I quit my job, I never seemed to have the energy to go anymore.
So what is it about Mondays? I have a few ideas. I think the biggest part of it, for me, is that I have all of these plans for what I'm going to accomplish on the weekend. The glorious, magical weekend. Full of unlimited amounts of free time, a toddler who entertains herself, and a husband to help me carry heavy things to the basement. Then Monday rolls around. And the house is still a mess. And there is still a 100-pound computer sitting in the middle of the kitchen.
I'm sure there's a lot more to it than that, but it's enough for me to start troubleshooting solutions. Mondays mark the point during the week when I have the most things on my to-do list, and the longest stretch of time before I will have help getting them done.
So, I'm declaring War on Mondays. Tomorrow, there is nothing on my to-do list. Starting this week, Monday will be the day when Valerie and I can just relax and unwind from the busy weekend. I don't even have to make us lunch, because I made sure that there would be enough leftovers from the weekend for us to have tomorrow. And, most importantly, no guilt. No guilt for not being more productive. No guilt for turning on the TV and letting Pingu entertain Valerie for a while. No guilt if I happen to still be in my pajamas when it's time to get into my pajamas again for bed.
How do you deal with Mondays?
Showing posts with label to-do lists. Show all posts
Showing posts with label to-do lists. Show all posts
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Monday, January 05, 2009
Phew!
So, you know how I said I had a pretty relaxing New Year's Eve? Yeah, that was the only time I got to relax this week. Family gathering on New Year's day, work and a dinner gathering on Friday, family trip to see the cousins in Allentown on Saturday, church and another family Christmas gathering on Sunday. Today is my day "off". Sure, I had to work, and I have six loads of laundry to do, and I'm planning on writing Valerie's monthly letter and taking her monthly picture, oh yeah, and I have some brown bananas to make into banana bread, and those steaks in the freezer to cook for dinner, and maybe some potatoes to go with them, and...
Hmmm. That doesn't sound so relaxing after all, does it?
Hmmm. That doesn't sound so relaxing after all, does it?
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Six weeks
As I was heading to bed last night, I couldn't shake the feeling that there was something on the agenda for today. I racked my brain, but came up with nothing. In the end, I decided that, if it was that important, I would have written it down.
When I woke up this morning, it hit me: today, Valerie is six weeks old. Which means that I am now six weeks postpartum. That's the magical number when I am supposed to be fully healed from childbirth. I've been so concerned with Valerie's milestones that I haven't been really paying attention to my own. Unfortunately, I think I'm behind the healing curve. I'm pretty much done bleeding, but I still have some reddish, sore spots, and it still hurts to sit, and sometimes to pee. I probably shouldn't be worried, I know six weeks is an average, not a magic number. But it's disappointing to reach the end of a countdown and discover that you have not yet arrived. My postpartum visit with my midwife is tomorrow - I guess I have a few questions I'll need to ask.
Six weeks is a magic number if you're an insurance company, however. Today's the day my paid leave runs out. I'm not going back to work yet, but the insurance company has dubbed any more time I take off "bonding" time, and therefore not eligible for paid leave. I told myself, before the baby came, that I would treat the paid leave as a license to not feel guilty about not getting anything done around the house. I was being paid to sit at home and heal, so anything I accomplished above and beyond that was a bonus. That resolution didn't stop me from occasionally getting frustrated and overwhelmed at the heaps of dirty dishes, but it also didn't wash them for me, so something had to give. I did give myself a pass on all the big projects, however, not the least of which is sorting through and putting away or throwing away all of the crap we moved from the old house. There is a lot of it. And after today, it's going to start taunting me every time I walk by it. Or rather, it will continue to do so, and I won't be able to tell it to shut up anymore.
Some days I really miss living in Canada. Nine months of leave would be really nice.
When I woke up this morning, it hit me: today, Valerie is six weeks old. Which means that I am now six weeks postpartum. That's the magical number when I am supposed to be fully healed from childbirth. I've been so concerned with Valerie's milestones that I haven't been really paying attention to my own. Unfortunately, I think I'm behind the healing curve. I'm pretty much done bleeding, but I still have some reddish, sore spots, and it still hurts to sit, and sometimes to pee. I probably shouldn't be worried, I know six weeks is an average, not a magic number. But it's disappointing to reach the end of a countdown and discover that you have not yet arrived. My postpartum visit with my midwife is tomorrow - I guess I have a few questions I'll need to ask.
Six weeks is a magic number if you're an insurance company, however. Today's the day my paid leave runs out. I'm not going back to work yet, but the insurance company has dubbed any more time I take off "bonding" time, and therefore not eligible for paid leave. I told myself, before the baby came, that I would treat the paid leave as a license to not feel guilty about not getting anything done around the house. I was being paid to sit at home and heal, so anything I accomplished above and beyond that was a bonus. That resolution didn't stop me from occasionally getting frustrated and overwhelmed at the heaps of dirty dishes, but it also didn't wash them for me, so something had to give. I did give myself a pass on all the big projects, however, not the least of which is sorting through and putting away or throwing away all of the crap we moved from the old house. There is a lot of it. And after today, it's going to start taunting me every time I walk by it. Or rather, it will continue to do so, and I won't be able to tell it to shut up anymore.
Some days I really miss living in Canada. Nine months of leave would be really nice.
Monday, May 07, 2007
Nothing Day
I've been busy lately. I say that purely as a statement of fact: I'm not complaining or bragging.
Friday night, a spontaneous group of friends went to see Spiderman 3. It was fun. I think I enjoyed it more than most of my companions because I believed that the director wanted it to be campy and silly and hokey, and I thought that he did a great job of doing just that. I laughed so hard at the scene where he came swinging in, and posed in front of the American flag. I thought it was a joke. My companions thought it was a serious attempt at patriotism. So, Jule Ann's assessment of Spiderman 3 is essentially this: it's either fun, or dumb, depending on whether you think the director is taking himself seriously or not.
On Saturday, I drove to the Jersey shore with Jeremy and Jon to help Jon's grandmother assemble the tent where they spend the summer. (Although calling this place a "tent" is about as accurate as calling a canvas-sided Jeep a tent. It's really almost a house.) It was fun, even if it is still a little early in the season to be thinking about swimming in the ocean.
While I was in New Jersey, a friend called me up on my cell phone and reminded me that it was Cinco de Mayo, and that I have a duty as a non-Mexican to go out on the town. So, when we got back from the shore, I brushed the salt-wind tangles out of my hair, put on a skirt and went out dancing. It was a blast. It was also the first time I had driven downtown since we moved to the new house, and I was impressed at how much closer we are to the city, now. It used to take at least 45 minutes, and now it's more like 20. In theory, anyhow. I missed my exit on the way in, and I missed my exit on the way home, so I don't know exactly how long it will take once I figure out how to get from A to B without also visiting C and Q and X. (X was a little bit scary, actually. That was when I decided that it wasn't worth it to stop for directions after all, I could just keep driving and find my way home eventually.)
Sunday, after church, I took a much needed nap, made dinner, then headed to a meeting up in Willow Grove, while Jeremy visited with his dad. And the next thing I knew, it was Monday morning, and I had completely forgotten to get any rest all weekend.
Which brings us to now. We were going to try and go visit the baby tonight, but I decided that I really needed an evening in. I need to put away a bunch of clothes, organize a bunch of boxes I brought over from the other house, catch up on my blog reading, write on my own blog, write more on my novel, pay some bills, do some dishes, clean the kitchen counter, email some people I've been meaning to email, watch last week's Heroes so I can watch this week's Heroes, and I'm going to stop there, because that's only the tip of the iceberg, and I'll get depressed if I recite the entire list.
And now it's ten o'clock. About two hours passed between the last paragraph and this one. In those two hours I did some dishes and ate a Pop Tart. I missed Heroes because I didn't get around to watching last week's episode in time. So I guess I can still make the point I had intended to make when I started this post, even if I did accomplish one or two things from my list. For all intents and purposes, today was a total waste. But I needed that more than anything right now. If only I could make myself stop feeling guilty for the wasted time and relax properly. Fat chance.
Friday night, a spontaneous group of friends went to see Spiderman 3. It was fun. I think I enjoyed it more than most of my companions because I believed that the director wanted it to be campy and silly and hokey, and I thought that he did a great job of doing just that. I laughed so hard at the scene where he came swinging in, and posed in front of the American flag. I thought it was a joke. My companions thought it was a serious attempt at patriotism. So, Jule Ann's assessment of Spiderman 3 is essentially this: it's either fun, or dumb, depending on whether you think the director is taking himself seriously or not.
On Saturday, I drove to the Jersey shore with Jeremy and Jon to help Jon's grandmother assemble the tent where they spend the summer. (Although calling this place a "tent" is about as accurate as calling a canvas-sided Jeep a tent. It's really almost a house.) It was fun, even if it is still a little early in the season to be thinking about swimming in the ocean.
While I was in New Jersey, a friend called me up on my cell phone and reminded me that it was Cinco de Mayo, and that I have a duty as a non-Mexican to go out on the town. So, when we got back from the shore, I brushed the salt-wind tangles out of my hair, put on a skirt and went out dancing. It was a blast. It was also the first time I had driven downtown since we moved to the new house, and I was impressed at how much closer we are to the city, now. It used to take at least 45 minutes, and now it's more like 20. In theory, anyhow. I missed my exit on the way in, and I missed my exit on the way home, so I don't know exactly how long it will take once I figure out how to get from A to B without also visiting C and Q and X. (X was a little bit scary, actually. That was when I decided that it wasn't worth it to stop for directions after all, I could just keep driving and find my way home eventually.)
Sunday, after church, I took a much needed nap, made dinner, then headed to a meeting up in Willow Grove, while Jeremy visited with his dad. And the next thing I knew, it was Monday morning, and I had completely forgotten to get any rest all weekend.
Which brings us to now. We were going to try and go visit the baby tonight, but I decided that I really needed an evening in. I need to put away a bunch of clothes, organize a bunch of boxes I brought over from the other house, catch up on my blog reading, write on my own blog, write more on my novel, pay some bills, do some dishes, clean the kitchen counter, email some people I've been meaning to email, watch last week's Heroes so I can watch this week's Heroes, and I'm going to stop there, because that's only the tip of the iceberg, and I'll get depressed if I recite the entire list.
And now it's ten o'clock. About two hours passed between the last paragraph and this one. In those two hours I did some dishes and ate a Pop Tart. I missed Heroes because I didn't get around to watching last week's episode in time. So I guess I can still make the point I had intended to make when I started this post, even if I did accomplish one or two things from my list. For all intents and purposes, today was a total waste. But I needed that more than anything right now. If only I could make myself stop feeling guilty for the wasted time and relax properly. Fat chance.
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