Rainy Mondays are hard. Hard for a teething child, hard for a mother needing fresh air. I tried my best. It was, after all, his 9 month birthday. We spent the morning playing with his toys but by the first nap, he was already bored. So I tried to go on a park adventure! But the steering wheel was dripping wet. His socks got soggy. I’m pretty sure he caught a cold.
When I saw the neighbors walking their dogs, I thought, “GREAT! Let’s make use of the pause in rain.” By the time I packed him in his stroller, it was sprinkling again. He was covered in the plastic stroller cover, dry as a bone, as I walked briskly, my hands gripping the handlebars so tight so they wouldn’t shiver. I thought, “I definitely wore the wrong pair of shoes.” We stopped to take a picture at the bridge. He was grinning from ear to ear. At least I made his day by going outside. We’ll worry about the snot later.
Back at home, I pulled out a “birthday toy” which was really something I saved from Christmas. Now I know where the saying “save for a rainy day” came from (I think/prolly not). We had to do three naps because his fuse was short, as was mine. The snuggles were nice, until I set him down. He popped back up screaming every time. I succumbed to sitting on the rocking chair holding him while he snored, and I read a book in his dark room. When I get glasses in a few years, I will think of this moment. I couldn’t really see what I was highlighting and my other arm was numb. I was holding on ’til I could be relieved by my husband, who walked in the door with, “I think I’m getting sick.”
“Cool, but yoga starts in an hour so do you want dinner now or after?” I whipped up dinner, happy to be doing ANYTHING ELSE, then ducked to yoga. After refreshing my mind, I rushed home to make it back in time for his bedtime routine. No way I was gonna miss that!
The rainy day tested my patience and presence. It was very difficult; some days are. But I’ll look back on these little snippets of mediocre motherhood and think, “Oh, right. That’s the moment I lost my eyesight.”
I got the idea of writing about my days with Casey from another mum. You see, Mondays are OUR days. I get to spend all day with my son as I stay home from work. It is the only day I fully dedicate to him. As sad as it is to say, when I was dedicating my every day off to Casey, I couldn’t help but feel burned out and resentful. I had no days to recharge or reset. Eventually, Mike and I hired a nanny to buy ourselves personal time. But on Mondays, Casey has my full attention. I don’t get any chores done and I don’t make a to-do list. I’ll flutter around the house tidying up or take a shower during the occasional nap, but other than those slim (and getting slimmer) moments of silence, there is nothing else in my world. So it would be a shame to not remember these days that are honestly so special to Casey and I. Hence, this series. The Case of the Mondaze.
