Running On Monday

Being a stay-at-home mom, Mondays, Fridays, and weekends mean different things for me than they do for those in the working world. My Mondays are my quiet days after a crazy, loud whirlwind of a weekend. You know, just the opposite of everyone else who looks forward to the weekends as a relaxing time of rest after a work week. (Except for those errands you have to run and chores that need done. But we'll pretend that those things don't exist.) 

I love weekends, don't get me wrong. I love having all my kids home from school, and Sam home from work (on weekends that he doesn't work) and just having family time. I love being able to go places together as a family, or do things together. Or just hang out at home together. I love the noise and the chaos that our happy family creates when we're all home. But Monday brings a quiet day for me to clean up the mess of the weekend happy.

Today, however, was a real Monday. I spent three hours this morning feeding cats, outside dogs, inside dogs, and puppies. I cleaned dog crates and took out the trash of that and did the dishes and swept the floor. I shuffled laundry and let dogs out and in. And out and in. And out. And in. I looked for Darla's collar for quite a while, then gave up because clearly it was lost. I looked for the packing tape to properly ship a package. I gave that up, too. And all that took three hours, because my gosh, it's Monday.

And then I went into town and dealt with a government office, a bank, and an insurance agency. Because it's Monday and just a whole ton of fun. 

At home again, I put the dogs out, and the corgi puppies in an outdoor playpen. And then the corgis got out and I had heart failure thinking a chicken hawk flew off with them or they drowned in the pond, and then I found them under the shrubs by the house. I looked for Darla's collar and the packing tape. I called the dogs in and realized that Jill was wearing Darla's collar and wondered what the heck, and then remembered that it was Monday and we have kids and either one of those could be a viable explanation. But the packing tape wasn't found anywhere.

I spent ten minutes taping a package with Scotch tape strips and questioned every kid I could find on the whereabouts of the packing tape, and of course nobody had ever seen anything because nobody ever does and I'm not even sure why I even ask. And after I finished taping up the package with Scotch tape strips and put the tape away, the packing tape just magically appeared on the counter right beside the package that I just taped up. 

Mondays are weird.

At 6:00 I'd decided that since dinner was made and Monday had gotten the upper hand, I'd go jogging to reset my mental status. Margo and I jumped in the car and drove to Blue Hole, and we jogged the dirt roads together. Margo was fascinated with all the chipmunks mocking her from the woods on either side of road. I loved the autumn smells, sounds, and sights. We jogged up the hills and down them. Two deer crossed our path, and stopped in the woods to watch us jog on by. We saw the sun fall low on the horizon and cast long shadows of semi bare trees on the dirt road. We got back to the car, both tired and rested.

Nature is such a grand fix-all for life's most interesting days. And a little exercise doesn't hurt either.

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