Perspective

It's Monday morning. I am under the delusion that the wonderful man who stayed home with me all weekend and helped with house and children is supposed to stay here.

I forget that there is a mortgage to be paid and, by golly, that I like a warm house.

So he goes to work. I'm thankful, of course, but I'm also fighting against the slump that is called Monday morning.

Come to think of it, I did this pre-children when I worked the nine-to-five. There was an unsaid rule that people should enter into the doors of corporate America on Monday morning with very quiet voices and coffee in tow. Then we'd take a few minutes to start up the computer, arrange the papers on the desk, check voice mail and slowly dip into the week. It was a transition that took the utmost delicacy.

Children do not know about this rule. But that's okay. I have embraced the chaos which I come to expect.

I have already done a stamping craft project with Morgan and given the baby a bath.

As I picked up my grumpy infant this morning, I noted with an "ugh" that she has a cold. She rubbed her fat fist through her runny nose to make her face somewhat glossy and fussed. Poor thing. "No gym for Mommy today," I noted.

In ten minutes, the doorbell will ring and two neighbor girls with bright faces will say good morning and immediately launch into something they did this weekend. While they're telling me about it, Morgan will be scrambling to get her coat on and the baby will be crying as I stuff her in her fleece body suit.

My natural response is to flee from the chaos, but the children are attached to the chaos. I want the children. I love them. I don't want the mess of the art, but I want the adorable drawings. I don't want the mounds of laundry, but I want the curiosity of my infant as she smears cake on her arms.

So I embrace them both. Package deal.

And I guess I'll embrace the Mondays that hold us as well.