Monday… possibly the most dreaded word in any hard working person’s vocabulary. Personally, I have always felt better once it was Monday morning, compared to how I have often felt on Sunday evenings. It’s not as if I have some horrifying job to go to, slaving away in unbearable conditions, though at one point I did have a job that I didn’t care for much at all. One horrible job in 26 years of working isn’t so bad. Well, make that two jobs that I didn’t care for. One of them, I will plead the fifth. The other one I can speak of was back in 1989, when I worked at Chuck E. Cheese for one day. I think it was just transitioning from Showbiz Pizza, so as the “new girl”, I was required to dress up in a big rat costume, which was old, and hot, and was definitely in need of a good dousing of Febreze. At 18 years old, I wasn’t exactly a kid friendly kind of gal either, so after that experience, coupled with dropping an entire pizza on the floor, I decided the job wasn’t for me. These days I don’t mind Mondays at all. Getting out of bed might be the most difficult part, but I love my job and my classes, so once I am up, I am ready to take on the day.
Yesterday was a different kind of Sunday. As I mentioned before, it was my twin boys 18th birthday. Had me thinking back to the day they were born, which sure doesn’t seem like 18 years ago, and remembering the feeling I had that day. That feeling which someone should patent and bottle. Chances are we could do away with every anti-depressant on the market if we could share THAT feeling with everyone. Anyone who is a mother might understand what I am talking about.
This weekend I also had the opportunity to help one of my closest friends move to a beautiful new home. I was so happy for her, that I found tears rolling down my cheeks as she gave me the grand tour of their new home. During the move, I also came to another realization. Manual labor is NOT FOR ME. I am more of an “un-packer” or “moral support provider” in these situations. Fortunately, there were others there to make up for my lack of muscle. At one point watching two of our friends load living room furniture into the trailer, my friend, the "movee", joked with me about our lack of strength by asking me to come inside and help her carry some cotton balls out to the truck. At least we could laugh about it. Despite that, at the end of the day, I was left with a sense of accomplishment, comingled with love for these friends of mine. I am blessed to have them in my life. Such a diverse group of women, all of us work, go to school and run households full of children. Our ages vary, as do our jobs and our chosen fields of study at NWTC. Yet, some twist of fate brought us together, and with our friendships we all have something unique to offer, to our employers, to our school, to our communities, to our families and to each other. I am very blessed to have all of you in my life.