Said with sarcasm. Manic, probably does not define it. More like Monday blahs. Geeze I don't like mondays! I don't work outside the home, and still I don't like them. Some are better then others, this one sucks. What monday represents is a work week, even for stay at home moms. I won't get into the mudane aspects, and not because of what you might think. My husband handles a lot of the laundry. OK, MOST of the laundry. It just never has sit very high on my list.

When we were dating, and I was working fulltime, this got even worse. He came over to find me in a depressed heap, staring at a good 15 loads of laundry, wondering how in the hell it got so bad, and why hadn't I seen it coming. Hubby tells it, that this was indeed the one time he wondered what he was letting himself in for, hooking up with the mother of 3 children. The oldest still living at home at the time.

Anyway, back to the depressed heap that was me. He had called, and I had made it abundantly clear, that seeing him was outta the question, the laundry was over running the apartment, and threatening to become a health hazard if I didn't address this problem immediately. I knew damn well that I would not work at it during the work week. He being the aggressive take charge man that he is, said it wasn't a big deal, he would help catch me up. My best friend at the apts. also came over, seeing the state of things, she too said she would help. There are times when I definitely bring out the co-dependent in friends and lovers, and usually housework and laundry are tied to it somehow.

Rox immediately went to work cleaning my kitchen. Kevin looked at the laundry in stunned shock, recovered quickly, and initiated poker face mode. He decided that we would load up ALL loads and take them to a luandry mat, where they could be whipped out in no time. Rox kept working on my apartment, and Kevin decided we would take my kids and Rox's with US. With loaded down laundry baskets, and bags of hangars and 4 kids in tow, we were off.

I am a hipocrite of the worse kind. Had I been dating a man with kids, well, other then casual dating, and walked in on this scene, I would have ran for cover, and never looked back! Not that this would happen, since I had decided I would not get serious with a man who had children. I know, how hypocritical can I be, right? I have great admiration for families that come together, with his and hers in the way of offspring. The melding of so many different family values and priorities, just seems like an impossible mountain to climb. I know other families do this, and my hats off to them. I just knew I didn't have that kind of strength, or stamina, OR energy to try and make that work.

Well laundry took us approximately 4 hours to wash, dry, fold and hang, and then reload into the family minivan. By then all 4 kids were starved as well as boyfriend and myself. (Some date huh!? lol) We ate outside, at Sonic, with the skies grey and sprinkling. I think my now- husband remembers this day with nightmares. As ever since, he doesn't even allow any time to elapse, before constantly throwing laundry into the washer. And always remembering to put it into the dryer. I get sidetracked so easily, that a lot of my problem is forgotten laundry. That, and outta sight outta mind mentality.

So when I address monday blahs, it usually has little to do with the mundane chores of laundry and sheet washing, etc. It has to do with getting everyone out the front door in the morning, and reflecting on the week-end. As well as looking around at the morning clutter, and trying to put it back into order.

This morning as I reflect on the week-end it is with disappontment. It had all the makings of a decent week-end. The week-end with just my spouse, as the kids were with their father. My husband and I have far more beautiful alone week-ends, always with some unexpected twists and turns, but good. This Easter week-end does not qualify by a longshot.

Friday he is usually beat up from a long work-week, and this one was no exception. We usually rent movies, scrounge for whatever for dinner, and just take it easy. Saturday we had planned out "date night". We always enjoy going to musicals or plays. While we were dating we had gone to the Gammage Theatre a few times. But in Mesa there is also a small theatre called the Broadway Palms. They had Guys and Dolls playing, so we got tickets, and planned an evening meal out.

We broke open a bottle of champagne before going, and of course drank the whole damn thing. Decided to have dinner after the fact, and just head over to the theatre. We got there a little early and sat up to the bar, where I had a Cosmo, and he had a pepsi. (He was driving.) The headache set in minutes after sitting down in the theatre. And then the sleepiness. And then the lead in the play had more of an operatic voice. In fact trying to sing in lower keys then opera, were less then successful. The headache got worse, I closed my eyes and tried tuning her (the lead singer) out. What I succeeded in doing was to doze off. Several times during the first acts. I kept my head turned away from my husband so he wouldn't know. But by intermission, I had had my fill, of Guys and Dolls done with an operatic lead, that I truly wanted to strangle silent.

We headed outside for a cigarette, and I thought I would fish to see if he was enjoying the performance. Thank God he was just as bored and tired and restless and hungry as I was. For the record, I do believe my ability to enjoy the theatre is directly related to my mood at the
time. She may very well have been considered talented, but if the mood isn't right, I'm not going to see it. We headed over to Charelstons for dinner. Another huge collasal disaster. I was in the mood for another prime rib. They had a few peices left, but they were medium rare. Way to pink for my tastes, but I chose it anyway. The garlic mash, tasted "funny" The salad dressing tasted off, and was almost warm, which always sends up red flags. The dinner overall wasn't even a close second to Houstons steak house. Which we had just had the previous week when Delta was visiting.

By the time we got home, I was fighting a massive headache, tinged with mild nausea, and just weak. This was also supposed to be a romance night. That, we both could see was not gonna be happening either.

Sunday, or Easter, was lackluster and flat. We didn't have the enthusiasm to even put an Easter dinner together. We took this beautiful ham, and made sandwiches out of it. Got into a bickering fight, that usually has me trying to run away. (hop in the car, and drive off) He cannot stand this, and will literally stand behind my vehicle, blocking my path, so I can go no where. My father has heard this before and laughed. He remembers a Tamber who would go into an uncontrollable rage, and would just as soon run over anyone who got in my way. (I've mellowed, or gotten older, or maybe I'm just too damn tired to fight like that anymore) He can't understand how a man who knows me and is married to me, would possibly take that kinda gamble.

At any rate Kevin will not allow me to run, and eventually we hash thru shit. And we did, and we settled in to watch a movie. This was with Annette Benning, called Being Julia. I enjoyed it, but it was a slower moving movie, which put Kevin to sleep fairly quickly. Soon there after the kids were back. So basically the week-end that gives my husband and I a chance to re-connect as lovers, didn't even resemble that. It was not from some lack of effort in trying to create it either.

I find when this happens, it will put me in a real funk. And so I am, and so here I sit. The skies here in AZ are grey and dreary, with the threatening look of rain in the sky. Guess this fits my mood. And still I haven't attempted to clean up from the morning.

We are two weeks away from the opportunity to replace the memory of our shitty week-end together, and that depresses me. My goal, my conscious goal was quite the opposite. It's times like these, that I do believe in the stars, and the cosmos. They either work for you, or against you.

My father, a wise man, and bus driver for intercity transit, has a different theory. He says that whenever you "brag" on your spouse to others, prepare to have what you've said contradicted with a huge blow out. This would be in line with things that I have posted of late. He is a wonderful man, but happily ever after, and no effort in making things wonderful, are just not a reality. At least not a reality for us.

Marraige is not all warm fuzzies, and romance. At times, it can be quite the opposite. I debated on whether to write the truth, and decided to. This is my journal after all, and I don't want it to reflect this idealistic fairytale. Even what I normally consider the best marraige in the world, has those days you just as soon forget. We had a few this week-end.