It was 7:15 a.m. on a Monday, and my 12-year-old son, Jamie, was still tucked away in bed. His younger sisters were already up, grumbling about the cereal options, while my partner was almost ready for her teaching day. I was in full-on chaos mode, attempting to usher the kids out the door so I could get to work. But Jamie? He was resolutely refusing to budge. I’ll admit, I lost my cool for a moment.
I stormed into his room, flipping on the light as I launched into a lecture. I emphasized the importance of not holding up the family and warned him that the real world wouldn’t tolerate such behavior. He didn’t budge, merely draping his blanket over his head and letting out a long, dramatic groan.
“You need to be out of that bed in two minutes,” I warned, my tone suggesting a consequence that I was too drained to articulate on a Monday morning. Tired myself, I left the room, letting the incomplete threat linger in the air.
This morning struggle was nothing new for him. Jamie is always the last one to rise, but we typically manage to rouse him by 7 a.m. from Tuesday to Friday. Mondays, however? A different story altogether. Oddly enough, his reluctance to rise seems to start on Saturday night when he begins to express his disdain for the upcoming school week. By Sunday, the dread intensifies, culminating in a full-blown anxiety attack that keeps him glued to his bed on Monday mornings.
We’ve considered allowing him to skip school rather than engage in this daily battle, but I know that wouldn’t help him learn to cope with responsibility.
This past Monday, I had reached my limit. I was tired of flipping on his light, pulling at his covers, and shouting “Are you awake yet?” until my voice was hoarse.
In a way, this is a typical preteen issue. I remember feeling the same way at his age, and I suspect my younger daughters will follow suit soon. Yet, one thing I often overlook in these moments is that my frustration stems from my own dislike for Mondays. I too dread returning to work after the weekend, and when my son drags his feet, it only amplifies my own irritation.
Reflecting on this, I realize I hold my son to a higher standard than myself. Yes, I should be teaching him to rise and shine, even on Mondays, but he’s just as human as I am, and humans have had a longstanding aversion to Mondays. He hasn’t had years of obligations to condition him to accept that staying in bed won’t make Monday disappear.
As parents, we often let our own dislikes intensify our frustrations with our children, especially when they mirror our own traits. We become irritated instead of understanding. After all, we didn’t magically learn how to tackle the Monday blues; it often takes years for some to emotionally prepare for the start of the week. A morning shouting match isn’t likely to help.
I wish I could say I realized this on my own. As I was leaving Jamie’s room, my partner, Sarah, intercepted me in the hallway and said, “You’re not great at Mondays either. Maybe give him a break.” She then pointed out that Jamie had been anxious about school all weekend and had shown signs of feeling down about it. Suddenly, I found myself trying to toughen him up when what he needed was understanding. As bizarre as it might sound, I recognized that perhaps I was overreacting, as parents tend to do, especially on a Monday morning.
I went back into his room and said, “Hey, Jamie. You’ll need to figure out how to deal with Mondays. But I want you to know something: I hate them, too. I’m not great at them, and that’s probably why I get upset when you don’t get out of bed.”
He was silent for a moment, still cocooned in his blanket. Then he responded with surprise, “You hate Mondays, too?”
I chuckled and confirmed that I did. I explained that many people share this sentiment, that it’s normal to dread returning to school or work, yet getting up is necessary. “Mondays don’t just vanish. Sorry to break it to you.”
He peeked out from under the covers, hair tousled, shirtless. Without saying a word, he twisted his lip, let out a half-hearted moan, and finally emerged from bed. I genuinely believe all he needed was to understand that Mondays are universally disliked, even by his dad, and that this reality is just part of life. I was reminded of a crucial lesson: sometimes, a little empathy can go a long way in parenting.
If you’re interested in more insights, you might want to check out this post on polygenic testing, as well as resources on home insemination from Make A Mom and Healthline.
In summary, Mondays can be a challenge for both parents and kids alike. By recognizing that we’re all in this together, we can foster understanding and empathy, making it a little easier for everyone to tackle the start of the week.
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