Do you remember when Sundays were lazy? I sure do.
I’d wake up around 10:00 and then just lie in bed for awhile. I’d eventually crawl down to the kitchen where I would make myself a cup of coffee and turn on the TV. If it was Fall or Winter, I would then proceed to watch approximately 12 straight hours of football or pregame shows. The Pizza Hut guy would magically show up around 5:00 because he knew I was going to order it anyway. I would then shove about 8,000 calories down my throat while drinking a Guinness and marveling at John Madden’s ability to expertly circle the sweat on the offensive lineman’s butt with his teleprompter. Eventually, I would fall asleep on the couch while watching the late game. I’d wake up around 2:00 in the morning, turn off the infomercial that was playing, walk to my bedroom, and call the day a success. I loved Sundays.
Then…we had kids.
Now, Sundays start around 5:30, usually with a 3 year old sticking his finger up my nose. I’ll grab the kids and stumble down the stairs in a daze in a good-intentioned but ill-fated attempt to let the wife sleep in. I’ll make myself the strongest coffee that I can find and ask the kids what they want for breakfast. Inevitably, one wants pancakes while the other wants french toast. If I try to compromise between them, they’ll both decide that they’re not going to eat anything at all unless it contains enough sugar to send an elephant into shock. Of course, they have to voice their complaints loud enough to wake my wife, mother, and father (who lives in Arizona).
Next, it would be nice to sit down and read the paper or my book, but that’s not going to happen. It’s climb on daddy time. Maybe we’ll take them to the park or something in a misquided attempt to run some of the energy out of them. This will backfire since one of them will skin a knee and wholeheartedly believe that they are seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. Since we forgot to bring band-aids, we now have to take them home in order to prevent gangrene from setting in. Of course, they fall asleep for the 5 minutes of the ride which magically re-energizes them for the rest of the day.
There used to be football on the TV, but now we’re watching Dora and Thomas the Train Engine. As soon as I close my eyes in an effort to maintain my sanity, they will decide it’s time to start hitting each other. This cycle will continue for approximately 4 hours or until I lock myself into the bathroom.
Once dinner rolls around, pizza is out of the question. First of all, getting everyone to agree on a certain set of toppings is impossible. Second, I’ve been told that putting a full pound of dairy and fat into my kids isn’t great parenting. Therefore, it’s time to cook something tasty enough that they’ll eat it and healthy enough that nobody calls Child’s Services. That’s leaves about 3 meals and 2 of them are macaroni and cheese.
By the time dinner is over, it’s time for bath and bed. That’s another hour and a half of pain since neither wants to do either. Once their in bed, it’s finally a chance for some time to ourselves. Unfortunately, my wife and I are so exhausted by that time that we usually spend it trying to stay awake long enough to change into our pajamas. Sometimes, we can even keep our eyes open long enough to kiss each other on the cheek.
Some people hate Mondays, but I love them. It means that Sunday is over…