no love tuesdays

Dear Tuesday,

I am sorry to say that I do not like you.  As the school year continues, you get more and more annoying.  The only good part of your day happens at 5:30, when I get to share life (and grumbles) with my best friend.  Between 6:15 and 7:20, breakfast (if it happens) is haphazardly served, little girls fight with me about their clothes, school library books are searched for and lunches are carelessly put together with whatever is in the fridge and the closet since food shopping is now a novelty experience.  You cause me to leave the house at 7:22, shoes untied, hair undone, runny noses unwiped so that I can attend my weekly 7:30 team leaders meeting.  With a quick kiss, you rush me to settle my girls into their waiting "spot" for the arrival of the bus.  My meeting ends at 8:16, and now I am late to homeroom.  My 6th graders quickly enter my personal space with their questions and are busy tearing down the Christmas decorations outside my door.  Your time ensues and with no breaks to use the bathroom and in tears after failing at every attempt to handle 1 particular student, your 3:00 timing rolls around which brings outdoor bus duty and the elementary school bus with one of my daughters who is looking a bit "dirty" . . . when IS the last time she had a shower?  Your daylight fades quickly as I sit at my desk grading and planning and leave the building at 5 to pick up dinner at Market Basket, chicken fingers for the girls, a salad for me, Matt out tonight, and drive to MP to pick up Kirsten from dance.  Home at 6.  Feed, bathe, and spend an hour on homework with the girls, and exhaustion sets in when the tears and the fighting reaches a new height.  We play one game to settle in, then your hour reminds me it is time for bed . . . for them.  I fight off sleep as I read to Kirsten, and stumble out of her room to the kitchen table.  It's now 9:00.  You tease me until midnight.  When 2:00 am rolls around and I am still at the kitchen table, I now don't like you OR Wednesday.