Mondays have an uncanny way of attracting chaos and calamity. It’s the day when traffic jams seem longer, coffee spills are more frequent, and sickness calls to work are at an all-time high. If you’re a parent, you’re likely nodding along, recognizing that getting little ones ready on a Monday is a Herculean task—matching socks, brushed hair, and full tummies are all part of the challenge. Forget punctuality; it’s a distant dream.
Let me tell you about the Monday that solidified my belief that some kind of cosmic mischief was waiting for me.
7:27 AM
I wake with a start—no alarm in sight. Since my three-year-old graced the world, I’ve forsaken alarms. Who needs the soothing sounds of nature when I can sleep with one eye open, braced for nightly toddler calls for water and cuddles? Of course, on this particular Monday, my kids decide to sleep in. How cruel.
With only 18 minutes to prep for launch, I scramble.
7:55 AM
Late. My eldest throws a tantrum over the shirt and capri pants I picked from the laundry heap. “Fine! Wear your superhero pajamas!” I declare, attempting to save face by telling his teacher it was “Super Hero Day” at home. I grab his turtle shell backpack, race to make lunch, pack the gym bag, and wrestle my baby away from her cereal. Tears ensue. I can’t find matching shoes. I cradle my daughter like a football while noticing a certain odor that signals trouble. Time is slipping away.
8:15 AM
I rush back inside for a forgotten sippy cup.
8:17 AM
I dash back in for a critical composition book and my baby’s beloved blanket that has the power to quell any fuss (though it smells like it’s been through a war).
8:50 AM
We finally arrive at school, a mere 20 minutes late. I feel the weight of disapproval from generations past. I’m greeted with enthusiastic praise from fellow parents, but all I can think about is the chaos.
After check-in hugs and tearful goodbyes, my eldest disappears into his bilingual classroom. A moment of peace settles until—
My stomach churns ominously. I ignore it at first, but it’s insistent. I quickly grab my daughter and head for the restroom, which has become a sanctuary for potty etiquette lessons, rivaling even the playground in importance.
I choose the last stall at the far end, propping my daughter against the wall. As a mom, I’ve mastered the art of doing everything in a hurry.
Business done, I flush. And flush. And flush.
Oh no. The tank is empty. Panic sets in as I hear my son’s class lining up for potty time. I pry the tank lid off, but I don’t know what I’m looking for. I wish I had paid more attention in school. I rush to other stalls, lifting lids in a desperate comparison to find a solution.
Meanwhile, my daughter crawls under stall doors, playing hide and seek. I’m mortified. I can’t fix this problem, and it’s escalating.
I grab her and head toward the exit just as the school director, Mark, walks in. My heart races.
“Is there an issue with the last toilet?” he asks cheerfully.
“Yes! It’s broken!” I respond, panic rising.
“Oh, there’s a sign and tape on it,” he assures me.
“No, there isn’t!” I retort, flustered.
“Don’t worry! I’ll have it fixed,” he says, turning to get duct tape as if unaware it’s now a crime scene.
Feeling guilty, I decide to confess. “Mark, I used that toilet.”
His expression changes, and I can see the horror dawn on his face.
I back away, head hung low, utterly embarrassed. How did I end up in this situation? I call my mom, sister, and husband—each laughing uncontrollably at my unfortunate tale, reminding me of a scene from a well-known comedy. But the reality remains: I still have to face my boss, who now knows about my restroom disaster.
12:45 PM
The walk of shame for school pick-up is all too real.
I later discover there’s a teacher’s bathroom, which adds salt to the wound.
In the end, we all have our moments of chaos in parenting, and it’s a wild ride we navigate together.
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Summary: In this humorous recount of a chaotic Monday morning, Jenna Thompson navigates the trials of getting her kids ready for preschool, only to face an embarrassing incident in the restroom. The story captures the challenges of parenting, the unexpected hurdles of daily life, and the camaraderie that comes from sharing these moments.