Singing the Sunday Night Blues

     I'm so glad that it's 12:30 am on a Monday morning because that means that Sunday night is over! Why, you may ask, does that make me happy? I'm happy because the dreaded Sunday night "blues" are over...for another week.  Can I get an "amen"?! 
  
    I wonder if other households, all around the world, experience this phenomenon. The "blues" are sneaky. We can be experiencing a beautiful Sunday together, full of dinners with Grammy and Papa, playing games (or watching games depending on the sports season), walking outside, or any of the other "Sunny Sunday" things we like to do. But then comes... 
the witching hour.

   The "blues" appear in different forms depending on the age of the infected.  My husband usually starts with a small frown....just a slight furrowing of the brow accompanied with a  downward turn of his lips. Seeing the signs, I ask, "Is anything wrong, honey?".
To which he promptly replies, "No...why do you ask?" 
See! Those "blues" are so stealth he doesn't even realize he's contracted them yet. But I see it...the quietness, the vacant stare, the wandering around the house. He's got it bad.

   My oldest son starts to exhibit his infection by looking out the window frequently and checking the weather report every 10 minutes. All of a sudden I become a "bookie" answering his questions.  "Mom, what do you think the odds are that we'll get enough snow for a snow day?" & "Mom, what do you think the odds are that we will get a cold day? Like, how low does the temperature actually have to drop?" It feels like Vegas every Sunday night...without the fun!

  Number two son shows the "blues" by reporting actual physical symptoms. This usually begins with a cough, or maybe a hand held to his stomach, and possibly even a run to the bathroom...just for extra drama. He's being thoughtful you see. He's preparing me for the 3 am text he will send saying he hasn't been able to sleep and he is reaaalllly sick, and he's not faking, and he realllly needs to stay home from school. I have begun to require an actual viewing of the vomit before I grant his request.  

  Last, but not least, is the girl child. Her blues are hard to detect because they get all mixed in with the "moody 13 year old hormones" so I'm not quite sure WHAT I'm dealing with till I look at the calender. Her eye rolls are just a bit more emphatic, her voice just a tad higher, and her tendency to realize that she has homework that she HAS to do NOW..on a Sunday evening...at 9:00 pm....and that she has a certain shirt that she HAS to have washed by tomorrow...and that she HAS to..well, you get the picture. Those are certain signs that another one bites the dust.

  I'm starting to think that I need to escape...and Sunday evening would be just about the most perfect time ever! I love my family, I truly do, but when the "Sunday Night Blues" start drifting through our house...I think it's time for mama to drift on out the door.  They'll be ok...really they will! They have each other, and if there is one thing the "blues" love, it's company.

  As for me, I think it's only being a prudent mom to keep my distance...just to make sure I don't go down with it. So if you need me on a Sunday night, don't come knocking on the door. They are all quarantined in there. Instead, grab a glass and a bottle of wine and meet me in the garage. We'll stay healthy out there..together!

(Can anyone guess what kind of Sunday evening I had? Yep, I thought you could!)