Sunday Night Fever

Posted on November 13 2016

I used to love Sundays. The day of rest. Family day.

Now I actually dread it.

I don't mind Sunday mornings. Long breakfasts. Sleep ins. PJs til noon. But as the day wears on my mood worsens. I get jittery and anxious. My head is full of the gazillions things I have to do to prepare for the week.

I've always had a thing about Sunday nights. I don't like to go out on Sunday nights. I like everyone fed, showered and in bed early. As if the coming week is an event that must be meticulously planned for. Like if I am not perfectly organised by Sunday night, the entire week will be a chaotic flop.

Sunday night dinner is a conundrum for me. When I was a kid it was just a bit of this and a bit of that. Spaghetti jaffles, pizza subs on leftover rolls from lunch. Potato fritters. Nothing special. My husband's family had a roast every Sunday. With the works. Cauliflower and cheese sauce, delicious crispy potatoes.

Growing up, my memories of Sundays were playing outside while dad mowed, gardened, landscaped or tinkered. Riding bikes, making cubbies. Being kids. Sundays always had a bittersweet side as school was encroaching, but I will always remember them fondly.

One thing I don't remember though, is my mum on Sundays. Other than her passing out a tray of sandwiches or fruit from a barely opened sliding door, she wasn't heavily featured.

Now I know why. She was organising. We didn't feel the sting of Sunday Night Fever. She had her shit together. Or if she didn't, she kept it from us.

Today in the midst of my Sunday organisation, I walked past my bedroom to find my girls laying on my bed. They were playing their iPads, giggling, and just relaxing. I was about to roar at them to get up, clean their rooms, pick up their crap from the lounge room floor.

But I didn't.

Instead I reflected on how lucky they are. That they are children. That these moments are so rare. That they deserve a bit of relaxation too. We have filled their days with stuff. School. Homework. Dancing. Training. They are always busy, as conscious of their timetables as we are.

So I left them there. Talking, giggling. Messing up the bed that I only made because I have a new doona cover. They were actually GETTING ALONG! Why would I disturb that? These quiet moments are just as important as the productive ones. I need to place more emphasis on that.

Yeah there is stuff on the floor. Yeah they should probably do some homework. Who cares if it's 2pm and they are still in their pjs.

I need to reclaim my Sundays. And realise that it's not just MY Sunday. It's theirs too.
Monday will come and life will go on. There will be food and uniforms. They will be clean and relaxed. Ready to start another week of chaos.

Claire x


  • Beth Walter: December 20, 2021

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  • Simone Mercuri: November 13, 2016

    Oh Claire how I resonate with this. I said EXACTLY the same thing to Nathan today about not achieving what I needed to today, what is necessary on a Sunday so that my week isn’t a nightmare! I dread Sunday’s.

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