Yesterday I was driving home after a morning run with my run club and thought, “What day is it? Oh…Sunday. Which means tomorrow is Monday. Ugh.” I’m not sure why I was so irritated that it was Monday. I’m a stay at home mom and my husband doesn’t have weekends off. You’d think it wouldn’t matter much to me. Then I thought, “Well, I guess every day is pretty much Monday for me.”
Every day is Monday. Gross. Is there really anyone out there who looks forward to every Monday? Monday’s aren’t the most celebrated day of the week and I’m pretty sure more than half of the nation dreads them. As I continued to think to myself on my drive home, I realized what a negative view I had of the day to come. “No way,” I thought, “I refuse to believe every day is Monday for me just because I don’t have a 9-5 job. No. Every day is Friday for me.”
When I was working outside of the home as a teacher, every day DID feel like Monday. I wasn’t happy and I was so ready to be back home to my kids. (To the teachers who love their job and have been doing it for years, kudos to you. You’re the real heroes of the world.) I am now so blessed to be in the position I’m in now and to be home with my babies. How could I view that time with them as Mondays? Not every day is perfect and it’s the hardest job I’ve ever had, but it’s certainly not a “Monday” kind of day.
I promised myself that from now on, I’m going to treat every day like it’s Friday. When I wake up at the crack of dawn after a night of basically no rest, I’m celebrating the fact that God chose for me to have breath another day. When I am constantly vacuuming up the squished up Goldfish crackers and repeatedly saying things like, “Get down,” or, “Please share,” I’m celebrating the fact that I have food to feed my kids and toys for them to fight over. When I’m almost literally drowning in a never ending pile of laundry, I’m celebrating the fact that we have clothes to wear on our backs.
Every day isn’t perfect, but viewing each day as a “Monday” is absolutely ridiculous! I’ve learned quickly that having three kids ages 4 and under basically means someone is always pooping or crying, but it doesn’t mean that I can’t find joy and celebrate the little things.
I’m not only promising to try and view every day as a Friday for myself, but for my family as well.
Finding contentment isn’t always easy. It truly can be less effort to just let the negative outweigh the positive, but it doesn’t make anything better and it doesn’t help in any way. So why do it? My family deserves to have the best mom and wife they can have and if I’m not choosing joy, I know that I’m choosing to let the most important parts of my life be hidden in the dark. I owe them more than that.
Yes, there are certain situations where choosing joy is nearly impossible (depression, anxiety, grief, etc.), but if I am capable of finding the light then I will. So in this house, every day is Friday, we celebrate the little things, and we choose joy. Monday is only a name of a day in the week. It isn’t a curse or an enemy. So while I’m nursing a cluster feeding six week old on my couch with a massive pile of laundry sitting next to me needing to be folded, unmopped floors, unwashed hair, and two crazy little boys climbing everything they possibly can in this house, I’m raising my room temperature coffee up and saying, “Cheers to you, Monday.”
Have a great week of Fridays, friends.