Zen and the Art of Motherhood

If I had a keen eye, I'd see it.  If my ear was more in tune, I'd most certainly hear it.. If I had a discriminating palate, I'd taste it.  If any of my senses were finer and wiser, I would feel it in my bones.

But that is not my fate.  No matter how hard I try, how deep I look, it doesn't change.  When I look at the days of the week, they all look the same to me.

Now I know that many of you get all giggly and excited when the weekend comes.  But are those two little days THAT special?  Really?

Not in my neck of the woods.  I still clean, I still do laundry, and I most definitely still watch the kids.  All while desperately trying to fit in all those projects and errands that didn't get done during the "work" week.   I actually find myself biding my time, waiting patiently for Monday to roll around.  At least then I get a couple of hours of quiet time while the kids are at school.

But that doesn't stop me.  I still find myself with a little skip in my step come Friday.  Every week, I still have hope that maybe, just maybe, this week will be different.  Oh when will I ever learn?  Instead, like clockwork, my bubble is burst by Sunday evening. 

There are no gourmet dinners, not wild parties.  Just another day in the life of a frazzled stay-at-home mom. 

So as we head into the weekend, I hope you all have a great one.  Sorry if I don't share in the excitement -- its all the same to me.

Your Friendly Curmudgeon,