Updated: May 3, 2019
Originally Published: May 3, 2019
Mondays are notoriously dreadful, aren’t they? It feels as if the universe conspires against us, ensuring that everything that can go wrong, does. From heavier traffic and coffee spills to unexpected ER visits and frantic texts from your child about missing their precious Starbucks gift card, Mondays are a whirlwind of chaos. And if you’re a parent, you’re likely nodding vigorously – getting those little ones ready for school on this day is an uphill battle, to say the least. Forget punctuality; it’s a lost cause.
As I reflect on my distaste for Mondays, I can’t help but think that fate had a particularly cruel twist in store for me. It all began on one such Monday morning.
7:27 AM:
I bolt awake in a panic without the aid of my alarm clock. I haven’t needed one since my youngest was born; my nights are punctuated by toddler screams and requests for water. Ironically, this is the one day my kids decide to sleep in. Pure irony.
With just 18 minutes until chaos must be orchestrated, I’m already running late.
7:55 AM:
My eldest throws a fit over the outfit I painstakingly picked out from the laundry pile. “Fine! Wear your superhero pajamas to school!” I declare, hoping to maintain some semblance of order. I grab his turtle shell backpack and scramble to pack lunch, all while trying to corral my baby, who’s now in tears over the cereal.
Three minutes lost to a diaper disaster and a wild search for shoes.
8:15 AM:
I dash back inside for a forgotten sippy cup,
8:17 AM:
then return again for a critical composition book and the beloved baby blanket, which is essential for keeping the peace.
8:50 AM:
Finally, we arrive at school—20 minutes late. I can almost hear the collective sighs of disapproval from the other parents.
As I check in, I’m bombarded with cheerful greetings from parents and kids alike. “Ms. Jamie! My daughter adores your ballet class!” they say. Hugs, tears, and a bit of chaos ensue as my eldest disappears into his bilingual classroom, leaving me with only my little one.
But then, the unthinkable occurs.
With my stomach churning, I realize I can no longer ignore the signs. I grab my daughter and make a beeline for the restroom—the one where I’ve previously witnessed an entire class learning potty etiquette. I choose the last stall, hoping for a moment’s peace.
Here’s the thing about motherhood: you learn to do everything quickly. So, I rush through my business and reach for the flush.
FLUSH. FLUSH. FLUSH.
Nothing. Panic sets in. My child is now crawling under the stall doors, lost in her own little world of hide and seek, while I’m left grappling with a toilet that has clearly decided to betray me.
I dash to the other stalls, praying for a solution, but all I find is more confusion.
Just then, the school director, Mr. Thompson, walks in. My heart races as I realize the smell is beginning to escape stall #5. I make my way toward the exit when Mr. Thompson cheerfully asks, “Is there a problem with the last toilet?” I can feel the color drain from my face.
“No, no, not at all!” I stammer, suddenly paralyzed by the truth. In a moment of sheer panic, I blurt out, “I used that toilet!” His expression shifts from confusion to horror as he realizes the implications.
With my head hung low, I exit the bathroom, utterly mortified. I call my sister, my mom, and my husband to share the absurdity of the situation. They burst into laughter, recalling a scene that mirrors a classic comedy film. But I still have to face my boss, who will undoubtedly have to clean up my mess.
12:45 PM:
The walk of shame back to the preschool is nothing short of traumatic. I discover there’s a separate adult bathroom, which only adds salt to my wounds.
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Summary:
Mondays bring their own brand of chaos, especially for parents trying to get their kids to preschool. From wardrobe meltdowns to bathroom disasters, a seemingly simple day can quickly spiral into a mortifying experience. Learning to navigate the challenges of parenting and remembering to look for adult bathrooms can save you from future embarrassment.
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