Monday: Bringing the Chaos Like a Champ
I knew exactly 0 seconds of peace this morning. I had what I thought was a firm grip on life: lunches were packed, reminders were set, and I even had the audacity to enjoy a hot coffee before waking up the gremlins—uh, children.
Enter the Monday Plot Twist. The seven-year-old—usually prone to meltdowns over things like which hoodie is the only acceptable one—today decided that wearing any socks at all was a crime against humanity. Seriously? We’ve worn socks every damn day for YEARS. Suddenly they’re the devil?
It went from casual negotiation to outright shouting in under a minute. “These are bumpy!” “These are slidey!” “My toes are TRAPPED!” Like, kid, what do you want from me, a silk foot-glove personally spun by angels?! I just stood there (socks in hand, wild hair, coffee abandoned, eye twitching) wondering how the hell we got here. The clock was yelling at us to move faster. The older kid was making a peanut butter tornado in the kitchen. My brain evaporated.
Why It Pissed Me Off So Much
Of all the things to battle about, SOCKS? The morning was already a high-wire act. We were running late. I had to be logged in for work in, oh, 23 minutes. Nothing makes you question your life choices quite like trying to rationalize with a tiny human losing their actual mind over cotton foot tubes.
This wasn’t just any old meltdown, though. It was a sneak attack, and what really got me was how fast everything spiraled. There’s no warning siren for this level of chaos. I couldn’t fix it, couldn’t logic my way out. Just stood there, my mental to-do list bursting at the seams, wondering if Oprah does giveaways for personal assistants who handle sock drama.
Part of me was just plain tired of having to be the human sponge soaking up everyone’s stress and odd hang-ups. Why does the universe choose to fuck with me over things no one warns you about in the parenting manuals?
What Actually Got Us Out The Door
Okay, here’s where I copped out and stopped fighting. I gave the kid a choice: shoes with no socks (FINE, rebel, whatever), shoes with the thinnest socks I could find, or rain boots “just for fun”—because sometimes bribery is fine. The real trick wasn’t even giving the choice; it was letting my panic simmer down for a damn second.
When everything is going off the rails, my one practical hack is this: stop. Just ask: “Is this actually going to matter by noon?” Half the time, I can let the battle go, or at least choose a different hill to die on. Kid went to school in rain boots. Was it the weirdest look? Yes. Did anyone die or get arrested? No. Did I still hate Mondays? Also yes, but at least everyone survived.
Gentle Close (Kinda)
Some Mondays, the chaos wins. But sometimes the hack is literally just: let the little crap slide, and save your energy for the weird existential stuff that’ll definitely be next.
This kind of Monday makes me triple down on prepping what I can (and always having extra socks in every imaginable freakin’ texture).
The Potty Mouth Panda 