There are many milestones that we have hit in my young daughter’s life. The vast majority of them are fun and exciting, like Christmas morning, or learning to read.
And then there was last night, Sunday night, where the kid got very cranky and withdrawn, which is not like her. The wife and I both took turns trying to get out of her, what the problem was. Finally she admitted that she hates Sunday Night’s because the weekend if over.
Ahhh… The Sunday Night Blues; when one gets the sinking feeling in their stomach that the fun of the weekend is over and they have to return to work/school.
I was a little surprised because the kid loves school. One of the side effects of the pandemic in our household has been a very strong desire of our daughter to be in a school, surrounded by kids, teachers, and the ability to learn. So, to hear her express her own version of the Sunday Blues was a little sad for me. But I also know it was inevitable.
I hated Sunday nights for a very long time. I remember being little, eating Sunday dinner, and then watching 60 Minutes, and Murder, She Wrote, and that feeling slowly creeping over me that the good times of the weekend were coming to an end. That I would have to go back to school, and deal with fractions, and remainders, and bullies, and girls, and bus rides and all of that stuff that worried me as a kid. Even as an adult, I would still try and stay up as late as possible on Sunday night, avoiding going to bed, knowing it was a fruitless exercise, that I would still have to sit through passive aggressive staff meetings the next day.
Sunday nights are still a little weird for me in this new reality. I may not have to go to an office full of assholes, which is clearly a plus, but there is a routine of the week which starts over again, and I have responsibilities to keep. But I don’t dread Monday. Dreading the next day is the worst.
Now that this milestone has arisen for my daughter, I now wish it would have been kept at bay for a while longer. It’s normal to be a little sad when the fun comes to an end. I just hope I can help the kid to keep looking forward to tomorrow.