Monday Morning Commute

So once again it seems to be Monday morning, which unbelievably so happens about every 7 days : )! At times even though I dread Mondays, I sometimes view them as a bit of a welcome break. Well maybe not the hard work long day slog bit, but I have to admit I do kind of revel in the silent calm commute to work.  Once my bundles of joy have been safely distributed at their childcare, I leave behind with them my angry rage directed mostly at my pre-pubescent daughter who is anything but manageable in her tired hormonal state first thing in a morning. Seriously you need to enter her room with the caution of Emily Rose’s parents. They thought they had problems with her possession, well meet my daughter first thing in a morning and they will be braiding Emily’s hair with daisy chains! She is bloody hard work, as much as I love her of course. She has to finalise the end of every sentence with  a sneer or at best a snap. It seems that any question I ask her is irrelevant. How do I know this? Quite simply by the look of utter disgust upon her face at the asking of any conversation I may pose at her. It’s either the ‘for god’s sake how thick are you’ look or even better, the ‘are you really daring to speak to me’ glance. Either way it takes about 3 of these strained exchanges of simple sentences before I begin to  scream like a banshee, removing any remote possibility of the Walton style farewell that I stupidly hope for every day. Then there is the boy who simply forgot! As sweet as he is to look at, his totally inability to remember anything for longer than 30 seconds (unless it is the promise of chocolate or a friend around for tea, of which I occasionally, stupidly agree to), infuriates me to the point that I find myself writing him tick lists to aid with my rising blood pressure. I am not talking about a wee lack of concentration, I’m talking  goldfish memory! He only has to climb the 15 steps to the top of the landing and he has forgotten the basic daily instruction of brush your teeth! Now the simple line of ‘Mmmmmmuuummmmm, what have I come upstairs for again?’ can tip me right off the edge of that anger management train! But none of these issues have anything on the three year old who insists on peeing her pants just as we are stepping over the threshold into the world of the commute. And of course laying my hands on clean pants and tights that don’t have impossible to remove stains on the knee is a no-no  when you are already running 15 minutes late. So as I pull over to leave the children I long to say that tears well up in my eyes as I painfully bid them farewell, crying all the way to work longing to be a stay at home mother. But the reality is I gleefully throw open the doors, lovingly plant a genuine big smacker of a kiss upon their tiny foreheads and contentedly drive away safe in the knowledge that I have about 20 minutes of time ahead of me …….  completely and utterly to myself. Time where I do not have to speak to anyone … where I can blast Eminem out and enthusiastically rap along to his profanities  and I can shout unacceptable terms to any driver that may dare to disturb my newly found calm state! Ahhhhhh the Monday morning commute, not a bad way to start the week after all!!