We didn't come home until 9PM on Sunday night. Even though we had piles of laundry to fold, and still don't know where is Sonia's Monday lunch. Well, it is still Sunday, I thought, our own fun time. If I can get up early on Monday, everything will be straightened out. That was my wishful thinking of course.
Monday morning, I didn't get up until 8AM. Sonia wakes up, Morgan needs outdoor bathroom, I fight to find pans in kitchen to prepare Sonia's lunch and everyone's breakfast, and husband's alarm has been snoozed 3 times. They all seem to happen at the same time. My blood pressure was high when I tried to get Sonia to the dining table and keep Morgan away from the table. At 9AM, I know that we were running late since my daughter is still half dressed, and playing with her food. My husband is rushing out to the door saying "I am late for the meetings."
Thirty minutes later, I was driving back from daycare and stopped at Starbucks. (Who doesn't need a coffee after a morning like this? ) I finally sit down and had a deep breath. Is it the time to go back facing the home "after war" yet? Sigh, I will never like Monday morning.
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