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Tell Me Why I Don’t Like Tuesdays….

Tuesdays have morphed into the worst day of the week for our family.

 
The kids go to school and immediately to swimming where we are too far from home to leave the building and our youngest is too young for one of us not to be on site. It’s too rushed to eat a meal in between school and lessons so the kids try not to spill thermoses filled with something resembling a dinner that was intended to be piping hot and made with love but is somehow instead, covered in frost as is my heart.

 
Tuesdays mean Chloe showering in a community change room where everyone can hear her shriek over the water temperature, the shampoo in her eyes and her privacy issues when it comes to changing. Where on earth did she get that from? (Said the woman who changes with a towel clenched in her teeth as a make-shift fortress of shame)

 
Tuesdays mean eggs for my dinner at least 2 hours past when everyone else in the universe has finished and they already know the answer to the final Jeopardy question.

 
Tuesdays are the day the kids try to catch me in a state of total delirium and try to get away with things.

 
“Mom, Marco brings a bun with Cheesies in his lunch every day. Can I have a chip sandwich?”

 
I’m nodding yes before I have the chance to process the question. Then I remember to say “sure” but not before looking up the number to Child Services.

 
The washing machine sounds like a jet engine—only on Tuesdays.

 
I somehow managed to plug the kid’s bathroom sink before bedtime and when I tried to use the “ever-so-simple” spring-loaded mechanism to release it, I think it laughed at me.

 
On Tuesdays there are six bags to unpack; 3 school bags and 3 swimming bags.

 
On Tuesdays there are six lunch bags to unpack; 3 school lunches, 3 after school sacks of mush.

 
On Tuesdays, I always listen to the song, “Tell Me Why I Don’t Like Mondays” and I think, you have no idea.

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