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Monday Rocks!



I have a secret: I love Mondays.

It’s a bit embarrassing really, after all, who even likes Mondays, let alone loves them. “Back to work, bleurg. Here we go again…”

But I do, I really love them. And there’re really two reasons why. One is reasonable enough. The other, I share at a great personal risk.

The first reason is because Mondays are like New Year’s Day every week. It’s like a mini do-over every seven days. What is more exciting than the opportunity to do what you did last week, only better? I awaken on Monday mornings, with a sense of hope swirling around me. THIS will be the week I lose ten kilos, get the phone call I’ve been waiting for, land a huge work contract, win lotto. This could be the best week of my life! And if it isn’t – no big deal, there’s always next week.

The other reason Mondays get me juiced is something mummies don’t speak of normally, but I know we’re all thinking it: Monday is back to Kindy/school day.

I am not a bad mother – I love my little men, even when looking at my disastrous house, my sadly depleted disposable income, my woeful deflated-balloon stomach. They are my world and I can’t imagine a life without them.

But sometimes, after a full weekend of poo-filled nappies, sugar-fuelled tantrums over banned TV shows, and unending questions (“Can we got to the park?” “Why is that lady so fat?” “This came out of my nose, can I keep it?”), Mondays can seem like the holy land: quiet, ordered, calm, logical. My work-head is on and in full control, the universe is my playground. And in the hour between when work finishes and Kindy pickup arrives, there’s normally time to tidy without the constant delight of someone trailing after me, creating mess behind us. Washing gets put away, meals get planned, hey, I might even squeeze in a nap! Mondays rock.

Please don’t hate me for admitting I enjoy time on my own. It is no reflection on the way I feel about my kids. But as any mummy will tell you, sometimes, your identity as a mother can overtake every other aspect of your being. Example: For the two years I breastfed my sons until their first birthdays, my entire wardrobe was dictated by whether or not the boobs were easily accessible. Looking back on it now, I’m not sure how I didn’t lose my mind, trying to find dresses with stretchy straps and wearing the same three maternity bras on a cycle.

And how many other choices do we make on a daily basis because of the child factor: what to cook, when to eat, what to wash, where to holiday, whose oxygen mask to fit first, the list is long and will continue indefinitely.   I suppose it’s all part of the rich experience called “parenting”. Just like a rollercoaster, sometimes you feel sick, sometime you want to get off, sometimes you scream. But you also laugh till you cry, hold the people you love close and when it’s over, you’re hugely glad you took the ride.

So my message to all mummies is to enjoy Mondays guilt-free. Viva la Mondays!

Having said that, Saturdays are pretty awesome too… How long till the weekend now?


Kates is the author of the Mummy Diaries blog and a working mum of two. Find more
here at





Jolene enjoys writing, sharing and connecting with other like-minded women online – it also gives her the perfect excuse to ignore Mount-Washmore until it threatens to bury her family in an avalanche of Skylander T-shirts and Frozen Pyjama pants. (No one ever knows where the matching top is!) Likes: Reading, cooking, sketching, dancing (preferably with a Sav Blanc in one hand), social media, and sitting down on a toilet seat that one of her children hasn’t dripped, splashed or sprayed on. Dislikes: Writing pretentious crap about herself in online bio’s and refereeing arguments amongst her offspring.

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