Why must the week start with Monday?

Have you read this book?

Yesterday was one of those days. Zoë is teething, so she is cranky and out-of- sorts. It was Monday, so I was cranky and out-of sorts. And did I mention that Zoë is teething?

I started my day with energy and a bucketful of intentions. By 9:30, the dishes from the night before had multiplied and were now the dishes from the night before plus the morning dishes plus the clean dishes from the dishwasher plus the 4 tupperware lids and three spoons I'd given Zoë to keep her occupied. My counter was full. Those that know my family know that one of our family norms is a clean kitchen. We always did the dishes after each meal. All of them. You were allowed to be finished with dish duty when the sink was empty and everything was dried and put away. This is the norm at my house perhaps half the time. Mostly because I sometimes make the choice to spend time with Nathaniel rather than do all the dishes at night. I feel I've found a balance that usually works. Yesterday, though, all I could think about was that nothing in my kitchen was clean.  It was driving me crazy, and all Zoe wanted was for me to hold her.

At least it wasn't as bad as this:

Plus, I was feeling sorry for myself. And lonely. And unappreciated. And discontent.

I was angry at myself for feeling depressed and in a funk. I kept giving myself pep talks. I prayed for a better attitude. The day didn't really get much better, it just finally ended. 

That's ok. Some days truly are like that. I didn't really want to post this, because I want my posts to be about finding the joy in our lives. Nathaniel reminded me that I'm not simply writing about joy. I'm writing about life and truth. 

Here we are. We made it to Tuesday. I hope that if you had a horrible, terrible, no good, very bad Monday, that your Tuesday is looking up!