March 2025 – Sweat & Sparkle

Mondays

I have a co-worker who likes to chipperly announce that she loves Mondays. Despite this mildly annoying characteristic, I actually still speak to her.

Isn’t she sort of right, though? As difficult as it may be sometimes, maybe if we stop hating on Mondays so hard, they wouldn’t be quite so bad.

It’s a tough sell, sure. The end of the weekend isn’t something I will ever celebrate. I adore my weekends, my time with my husband, snuggling in bed, planning our day together, date night, all of it. I love heading outside and fussing over the plants and working on yard projects, and nothing beats staying up just a bit too late because we know we don’t have to set the alarm clock for Sunday morning.

So yeah, I can’t say that I love Mondays. But I will say that waking up with the expectation that Monday will be a bad day is almost certainly a guarantee that it will be a bad day.

Mondays might very well be the end of the weekend (boo! hiss!) But Mondays can also be a new start, a square one, the first step to something you have been meaning to do. Mondays can be a fresh week with possibility rolled out in front of us.

Not convinced just yet? Well, honestly, neither am I. But I will try. In the meantime, I discovered this quote with some inspiration for this week and all the Mondays beyond:

Opposites

There are few words more peaceful, more blissful than “home”. Just like this quote, my husband and I have built our home to be a collection of what we both love, from the roses in the front flower bed to the books stacked neatly on a side table in the living room, to a hobby room full of our latest projects, to the plants tucked everywhere inside where we can find space.

It’s been almost 10 years since we unlocked that front door together for the first time, excited and nervous, a truckload of furniture and boxes waiting for our attention. One project at a time–a bit of paint here, some trim there, a truckload of flowers there– we have made it ours.

Both of us love our home, of course, and it is immensely flattering when someone else loves it, too. Recently my stepson invited his girlfriend to dinner with us, and as soon as she came in, she commented on all the plants we have everywhere. My stepson bragged to her that all of them are real, which made me smile, knowing he is also proud to show her our home.

Even before we moved into this house, I have thought about how jarring it must have been for the kids to go from one home to the other all these years. One place is chaotic, angry, tense, trash-strewn, with everyone tiptoeing on eggshells to avoid triggering the tantrums of the screeching, bitching time bomb. The other is loud with laughter, full of life and happiness, colored with flowers and plants and photos, with people who take great pride in their home, its cleanliness, and its appearance.

Our home is our refuge. It’s the peace waiting for us at the end of each day. It’s where my husband and I find each other, shut the door, and leave the world outside so we can simply enjoy each other. And when the kids find serenity, comfort, and love there as well, then I am happy, knowing we have done our jobs well and have created a gentle landing spot for their peace, too.