Sunday Night’s a Beach

With the weekend nearly behind us and the new week looming, the tension in my house spikes right after dinner. It never fails. Right around 5pm every Sunday, my mood grows dim.

Why, you ask?

Well, that’s when my kids start their mad scramble to finish the homework they’ve waited until the last minute to do. They pull their sweaty crumpled gym uniforms out of their backpacks that now need fumigating. They hand me things to sign and that are due the next day and tell me about imminent important events taking place during the week that I do not heretofore have on my calendar.

Knowing this is the typical conclusion to nearly every single weekend during the school year, you’d think I’d have mechanisms in place to nip this stress-inducing procrastination in the bud.

You’d think.

If I had a dime for every time I strongly encouraged them to lay out their clothes, pack their lunches, and load their backpacks the night before, I’d be on my way to a beach in the south of France faster than you could say, “Plus de chocolat, s’il vous plaît.”

Instead, I’m met with a chorus of, “I know!”

Oh, who am I to talk? I teach my kids by (bad) example.

After the long work week, the last thing I want to do is pull out my work laptop to get a jump on things. I like to spend my Saturdays sleeping in and reconnecting with my family. I inevitably put off things like laundry and grocery shopping until Sunday afternoon.

With the last of the Sunday dinner dishes scraped and stacked in the dishwasher, my mind turns to all of the things I meant to get to, needed to get to, but didn’t.

God help a child of mine who comes at me, requesting a batch of cookies for a party at school or informing me that he signed me up to be a parent chaperone on a field trip the next day.

Then there’s that whole bracing myself for the week thing that I put myself through. I know, deep down, all will be well if I have my clothes laid out, my lunch packed and my work in my backpack. All I have to do then in the morning is shower, get dressed, eat and go.

Easy, peasy, really, when I actually get it all done the night before.

And therein lies the solution, I know…


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