A Week of Mondays

You know how when you wake up on a Monday, there’s a brief second as the last vestiges of sleep dissipate, when you stretch and yawn in a land between dream and reality – then, with a sudden sick feeling, you remember. Monday. You have to rush, you have to plan, you have to pack and dress and drive, there are timelines and deadlines and urgencies. If you are retired or work on the weekend, the day might not be the same for you or you may start to feel the panic and then get to luxuriate in relief, but you know what I’m talking about. The crushing, bone-wearying chatter that you know won’t quiet again until Friday.

If asked, I’d probably say I like Thursdays. Thursday means tomorrow is Friday, and that the whole weekend is open with possibilities. Friday makes me a little nervous, like I’m not appreciating the time I have or using it properly, and Saturday means the best part of the weekend is already over. Sunday is 12 hours of reminders that the following day is once again not your own, so what’s to like about that?

The past week and more has felt like one Monday after another, with a moment of calm wakefulness followed immediately by a nervous turn of the stomach and a laundry list of worries. Yes, ‘doing laundry’ is, in fact, on the list. As are about a dozen deliverables for work that I’m definitely not going to have ready for Friday, not including prep for the big meeting next week. The mortgage payment hit at the same time as the daycare check, then I was told I was late paying preschool tuition. The Ta had to cancel watching Jelly nights next week because of work, so I owe another daycare check. And this afternoon I put $578 on a credit card, just a small portion of what will be owed in a few days.

Jenny’s ENT appointment was yesterday morning, where the very nice Doc Brown told me yes, little Bean would need to have the teensiest of holes cut in her ear drums. He was mousey and mustached and made me feel very at ease, but it was still a Bad Thing to hear. Also, Jelly had to have the creepiest hearing test (scary toys in opposite corners of a tiny claustrophobic room – a terrifying rabbit that lit up and played cymbals, and a horrific bear that lit up and played a drum). But the staff were very nice, and my ‘Nightmare Before Christmas’ bag from my youngest sis made an excellent conversation piece, so we were told we’d get a call to schedule the surgery and off we went.

The call came within a few hours, and despite the fact I’d gone over my calendar four times to try and find good dates, there was no good answer. The sweet Doc Brown only operates on Fridays, and that didn’t leave me with a lot of options. So then it became a question of what we would have to compromise. And then it was what we would give up. One of the hard things about being a parent is making the unpopular decisions, but one of the truly shitty things about being a parent is making the decisions that are lousy for you. Jelly has been sick for months, in pain off and on. Not sleeping. Her behavior has radically changed. So the surgery is day after tomorrow. The Yo Gabba Live tickets, purchased months and months ago for this Saturday’s show were sold to a friend, the hotel room cancelled, the third weekend trip in a row called off. I will get on a plane to Boston for work on Monday morning with extra guilt and worries. I will once again be in debt, Christmas plans will most likely be cancelled, and damn it, it made me furious to read the stupid hospital brochure where it advised to have both parents at the surgery, “so that one could drive and one could tend to the child”.

I’m not very rational right now because Jelly has not been sleeping. It’s been a few weeks now, where she’ll creep into my room in the wee hours, or wake for the day long before the sun appears. I am doing my best to NOT FREAK OUT because there is no other parent to tend to the child, so I need to at least pretend to be the strong one. Lots of nice people have told me it will be fine. I am reminding myself that I am lucky to have an awesome network of supportive friends and family, so I won’t be alone in that waiting room. I am reassuring myself that other people must take endless hours off work for sick children and appointments at times that are not ideal for their managers, and they don’t lose their jobs. I have to come up with a better way to keep it all straight – the house, the job, the budget, the commitments. I’m doing everything in a fog right now, including parenting.

I’m just so tired of Monday.

*I will post as soon as I am able to let you guys know that The Bean is totally fine and that I was a moron for being so worked up.