I was singing along to the Boomtown Rats classic 'I Don't Like Mondays' the other day in the car. I looked, as ever, like a lunatic, yelling I wanna Sho-oo-oo-oot the whole day down.
I thought about all the many, awful Monday mornings that I've lived through. Monday: truly the very worst day of the week....
My Monday mornings would start at about 4am, when I'd wake up from a sweaty, restless sleep, filled with strange dreams that I couldn't quite remember, but made me feel uneasy.
For the next few hours I would toss and turn, replaying the events of the weekend in my head. How much had I drunk (again)? What had I meant to achieve but failed to (again)? What had I meant not to do, but done (again)?
I'd get up, go to the loo, go down to the kitchen to get a cold glass of water, get back into bed, toss and turn. Repeat. For several hours which felt like days.
Usually I'd fall asleep at about 6am, just in time to be woken up by the alarm at 6.20am.
Then the horror of the school run, on little sleep and with a horribly muggy head. Like wading through toxic soup.
Accompanying all of this would be a little voice in my head going something like this: well here we are again you promised this wouldn't happen will you ever learn you really are utterly useless this'll be another wasted day feeling awful with nothing achieved when are you going to grow up and get a grip you're not a teenager any more you have responsibilities you are a mother a useless one admittedly what sort of an example do you think you're setting bet the other mothers on the school run can tell what a mess you are look at them in their hip pristine gym kit with their rosy glow and bags of energy look at you you're an embarrassment oh for gods sake your shirt's on inside out bloody typical can't get anything right...
So I would try to pacify the voice of self loathing with the voice of empty promises. It went like this: I know I know I hear you today is going to be day 1 of the new regime I am not going to drink until the weekend well apart from Thursday when we have a dinner party to go to and when I do drink I will alternate every glass of wine with a glass of water I will absolutely not ever ever drink more than half a bottle of wine at a time in fact perhaps I will skip the wine altogether and only drink beer because I don't even like beer or maybe I will drink only beer during the week and wine at weekends whatever in any case I am definitely going to do something this can't go on...
But then, by 5pm - or possibly even a little earlier - the Wine Witch would pipe up.
She'd say I know you have all these good intentions. I'm with you, obviously. Things have to change. But is Monday really a good day to start? You feel awful after the weekend. You've done really well to get this far though the day without dropping any balls. It's best to cut down gradually. Have just a glass or two to take the edge off. Then we can start for real tomorrow....
And the Wine Witch always won.
But now? I love Mondays!
Monday: truly the very best day of the working week.
All that potential. Seven days stretching ahead, all shiny and new, waiting to be filled up.
I wake up, recharged after the weekend, and bounce out of bed (God, I'm irritating. Apologies).
I take out my big, old fashioned, leather bound diary and go through the schedule for the week. I write a list of all the things I need to achieve, knowing that they're actually going to get done. I build in a few social events, a treat for the kids, a date night and something just for me.
And then, just for fun, I sit back with a cup of coffee and remember what Mondays used to be like....
If you're reading this on this Monday morning and haven't yet quit drinking then DO IT, and you'll never feel this bad on a Monday again.
Love SM x