Monday Minefield

Pin It It's Monday, for sure.

I heard my husband going about his ablutions quietly this morning, careful to keep the bathroom door closed to shield the light from falling on my face and waking me too early. He leaves the house by six a.m., so he's thoughtful that way. For the past several weeks, though, I've grown accustomed to his softly murmured "school's closed today," as he leaves, absolving me from the responsibility of rising and starting my day.

There was no murmur today.

Regardless of the fact that snow has blanketed the ground since December 18th and the kids have not had a full week of school since returning after Christmas break, I felt the loss of that murmur keenly.

I couldn't sleep past 6:30, and rose, pacing in to the bathroom to peer out of the window at the leaden sky. Nothing appeared to be falling, but maybe it was a trick of the eyes. I pulled on my flannel pants and a sweater and went in to the den, where I could the driveway. Nothing. "Dang," I whispered, startling Izzy into a sharp bark. I let her out to do her morning business, and settled myself at the computer for a quick search of school delays. Surely it would be delayed...

No. Every other county was delayed, it seemed, since last night's forecast had called for morning and afternoon snow. Apparently, though, the forecast had shifted to mere rain this afternoon, and our superintendent had actually got it right. With a sigh, I let the dog in, and went to wake the kids.

Showering, I mentally revised my day. I would need to do my writing in the morning, and knock that out. Go to the store, get stuff for Bible study tomorrow, because after three weeks that would for sure be on. Then I would need to spend the afternoon catching up on laundry and cleaning I hadn't been around to do this past weekend. It would be a tight day.

I was ready roughly ten minutes before time to get the kids off to school and remembered to grab Lawson's signed report card from my desk as I was hustling them through breakfast. It had been so long (a month?) since they'd had to hustle they'd forgotten how. As I picked up his report card a pink 1st Grade Newsletter fluttered to the floor. I started to scan it idly, barely skimming the news of what units were going to be covered when and who was reading what book and etc. Then a single little sentence, enclosed in a little box of hearts, caught my attention. "The 1st grade classes will be exchanging Valentines on February 15."

My heart dropped into my Crocs.

That.Was.Today. The kids had been to school exactly one day last week, and precisely one day the week before that. Two the week before that. I had actually asked Lawson last night (the only day I'd seen him all weekend, since Autumn and I had been out of town for a tumbling meet) if they were exchanging Valentines. He.Said.No.

I looked at the clock. It was time to leave. I would like to say that I handled the next five minutes with grace and tact and patience, but I would be telling a big fat lie. I yelled. "Lawson! You told me you weren't exchanging Valentines!"

Lawson looked at me in confusion.

"What's exchange mean?"

"You're supposed to have Valentines to give to your friends!"

"Yeah, I made my bag already."

"But you don't have any Valentines!"

"That's alright. They'll still give me Valentines."

"YOU CAN"T DO THAT! IT ISN'T RIGHT!" Autumn and Lawson just looked at me, all 'who is this crazy woman in our kitchen and what has she done with Mom.' I tried for a kinder, gentler tone. "Autumn, are you supposed to exchange Valentines?"

"No."

"Are you SURE?"

"Yes, I'm positive."

"Let's.Go." We then had to wait ten minutes for Lawson to put his shoes on, find his coat, tie his shoes, and get in the car. And then the cell phone rang. It was Duane.

"Don't forget we have that meeting today at 1:30." AAARGH. All of my well-laid shower plans, down the shower drain.

"I don't have time for this..." I muttered, then recovered. "Okay. I'll be there." I had agreed, I vaguely remembered, several weeks earlier. It wasn't his fault the weather hadn't cooperated.

I am now tiptoeing gingerly through my Monday minefield, waiting for another shoe to drop. I'm trying to figure out where I can cram another task in order to complete everything I need to complete. I suspect I'll either be vaccuuming at midnight, or serving Panera tomorrow. Or both. And we may be wearing dirty clothes.

But you know what? Tomorrow's Tuesday, and this too, shall pass.