My mother always used to say that hate was a very strong word and that you should never use it unless it is warranted. If someone has done something to you and continues to treat you poorly and after repeatedly trying to be nice they won’t change you have provocation to say that you hate them. As a child I thought this was always really silly but now as a grownup I honestly feel that the hostility involved with “hating” someone or something must really be worth it because life is just too short to be that upset.
With all of that said I have to say that I HATE Mondays. While the morning routines start this little voice in our house keeps repeating, “why do I have to go to school?”, “I’m so tired I just want to sleep”, “is it a school day?”. The replies grow tiresome. “Yes, it’s a school day, and yes you have to go to school and yes you have friends that want you there and you’ll be coming home after second break and you have a good time when you’re at school and mommy and daddy are really proud of you for everything you do and you can do because I believe in you”. Take your pick of answers but inevitably it’s one or almost all of those retorts. I have to say every Monday the anxiety is usually at it’s worst and I walked away from the school yard today thinking, “will it ever get any better?”.
As all of the kids were greeting each other and asking about the weekend Sydney was standing in like nervously biting on the edge of her sweater and on the verge of tears. This morning I walked away from screaming Sydney and thought to myself, “It will be okay, it will be fine remember when I see her at lunchtime she’s had a good day. The teacher appreciates her for who she is and she’ll have a smile on her face when I see her at lunch.
I hate Mondays!
