Tuesday’s Monday

I used to dread waking up after Sundays, knowing that creepy Monday-monster had wiped filthy feet all over my floors.  Dirty washing usually lies tossed in corners, the windows are smeary, stovetop crusty, rubbish bins overflowing and ash from the fireplace has often found it’s way all over the lounge rug.  The bleakness of it all was enough to make me churn with resentment, watching my family depart in their uniformed smartness clutching their packed lunches, to hang out with their friends or colleagues, leaving me standing alone (unless you count the help of a toddler) in my fuzzy green dressing gown to survey the damage.

But something changed in me last year.  I suddenly realised the level of privilege I was mistaking for drudgery.  I imagined in one striking lightbulb moment, how it would feel to be clattering off with the rest of them in my lip gloss and heels, clutching my wrapped lunch, leaving the mess behind.  I then closed my eyes and pretended I was arriving back home at the end of that kind of day, three fractious children in tow. With tired feet, to a cold house, the staleness of waiting chaos, mountains of homework, dinner to be made and not having even had enough time to eat my wilted sandwich for lunch. 

Perpetually wishing I had time to prune the deadheads, defrost the chicken, visit that person, or buy milk and bread from the shop.

Or what if I was lying in a hospital bed, wishing I was at home scrubbing the oven or attacking my windows with vinegar and crunched up newspaper?  Wishing I could pop on the kettle, and sing along with the radio while I swish the vacuum around.  Wishing there was a knock at the door and some lovely pal stood there with a handful of baking.

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Wishing I could bath my baby-girl and read to her, inhaling the shampoo sweetness, or find my big girls’ missing socks; wishing I could whip up a batch of muffins or catch up with a faraway friend on the phone.  Wishing I could polish the toothpaste splatters off the mirror, or change the bedsheets.

Oh, yeah.  That’s right.

I have been there.  I’ve wished those wishes.

I’ve run out of the door in a uniform, starched and glossed, later saying goodnight to my littles on the phone, staggering in at 10.30pm when my shift ended.

And I’ve also lain in a narrow hospital bed for days, staring at the ceiling while imagining the chaotic family frenzy that our lives frequently display.  And wished I was there.

And I’ve grimaced at the mucky floors knowing I am still not allowed to wield a mop or a broom.  And I’ve stared hard at baskets of wet washing that cannot be hung because they are still too heavy to lift.  And I’ve sat confined to my bed, while my husband juggles mealtimes and the dynamics of three daughters singlehandedly, while trying to keep working from home.

But today?  Today I am content.  Monday wrapped its cosy arms around me, washing and floors not-with-standing.

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Rain drums on the roof and makes the garden a sheet of water behind those sticky windows, but today I have hands, legs and enough strength to show love.

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And over the weekend, I was able to enjoy church, walk around a farm, a mall and have friends for dinner.  It felt nearly normal.

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And the Bliss of the Ordinary wrapped up in my Monday was divine.

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It is nice to see you Mucky Monday, welcome in. 

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tues2603

Jaime @ Like a Bubbling Brook  – (June 1, 2010 at 10:16 PM)  

Beautiful, and oh-so-true. Thanks for the reminder :o)

Faith  – (June 2, 2010 at 12:16 AM)  

WOW WOW WOW. Beautifully written! Thank you so much. I am in the middle of my Monday Mess feeling a bit overwhelmed. Thanks for the perspective :)

JoAnn  – (June 2, 2010 at 3:19 AM)  

YES!
You have inspired me. I can now face my dirty floors/kitchen/bathroom with an embrace. Thank you.


p.s. that rock on the books is ROCKIN!

Erin  – (June 2, 2010 at 5:27 AM)  

You are just a delight to me.

jeana  – (June 2, 2010 at 5:45 AM)  

I really, really needed to read this today. Thank you for sharing. I woke up feeling that way today, but you're so right. I too have been bed ridden while I watch others come in and care for my kids, take them places, cook for my family, and wash their clothes. I also sat there wishing I could just sweep the floor, play with my kids, or cook a meal. Thank you so much for reminding me of what I so often take for granted.

nic  – (June 2, 2010 at 10:33 AM)  

beautifully expressed. you are so right; much joy lies in the mundane and the drudgery if we only have eyes to see.

P –   – (June 2, 2010 at 12:00 PM)  

hey amy,

love the new look blog, looks great. I often use greg's quote...monday slapped me in the face and today i slapped it back!! :) glad you liked the pressies.

Simoney  – (June 2, 2010 at 3:10 PM)  

Love it love it love it!

I love the way you are writing lately.

Still poetic, but painting such clear word pictures.

I totally enjoyed reading this wonderful post, and so glad I get to have mucky privileged mondays at home too.
xxx

Cat  – (June 3, 2010 at 3:03 PM)  

lovely...mmmm...Mondays ain't so bad after all!

Widge  – (June 9, 2010 at 10:21 PM)  

I like mondays. I feel relief at 9am on these mornings :) I love that pic of the books and stone

Sarah (Chez Lee)  – (June 12, 2010 at 11:38 PM)  

This is so powerful and thought provoking, combined with beautiful photographs. Thank you for reminding me to be grateful and see things from different angles. I will try to look at my dirty floor on Monday with fresh eyes! x

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