Does everybody dislike Monday mornings as much as I do? I remember when I was going through puberty I used to hate Sundays. Sundays were melancholy days, days of rest with the anticipation of a long week of school ahead. I didn't like Sundays. They felt depressing. Now it's Mondays that has become my least favorite day.

The house feels so quiet on this still Monday morning. Even though Will is still home from school, I can't help but anticipate the madness of the week ahead. But in some strange way, I enjoy the madness of the week--it keeps me from thinking. Monday mornings are for thinking.

Monday mornings are for putting the air back into my flat tires. It takes a little work, but I have to do it! Once I am re-inflated I will glide through the week. Well, that's not entirely true. I will bump and grind my way through the week. But at lease there will be air in my tires. I might need an oil change or some extra gasoline--but I am inflated and ready to react.

This week I hope Will will be back to feeling himself. I have meetings and stories to write. I have parent conferences to attend and Communication night to participate in. This helps my life feel somewhat normal. But those still Monday mornings make me feel so darn alone. Each Monday morning I wake up and wonder if this is what my life will feel like every day when the kids are no longer at home.

I think I fear that the Monday morning blues will turn into Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday sadness. I think I worry that when my kids leave home I will become depressed.

I often think that the chaos of our lives is what propels us forward. We, as parents, have to be alert and attentive, communicative and diligent, loving and supportive. In fact we want to be all those things--but is it easier to be those things to our kids than ourselves. And what happens when the very heart of our existence changes? Can we adapt and change too? Or are we too old to change?

I know for myself that change is possible, just more difficult these days. Just sleeping in another bed is more difficult now than it was when I was young. I can't sleep the first night at a hotel or at a friend's home--it feels different and it takes me a little while to get used to the change. If a stupid bed is difficult to change, how does one change the entire way they look at their life?

I am struggling to discover the first day of the rest of my life and I can't even change beds. In fact, the more I think about it I realize that I have owned my bed for at least 16 years. It is probably time to invest in a new mattress. And even this thought terrifies me. It just won't feel the same!

If anybody had told me I would feel this way fifteen years ago I would have laughed in their face. No way that will ever be me! I am as easy going as they come. Crash! Slam on the brakes! I guess I'm really not. And isn't this the reality that awaits me. I am going to have to change in order to propel myself forward on my nicely inflated tires. You all know that I am full of hot air, but the real question remains can this hot air work for me instead of against me?

Hot air is full of passion and pathos, crazy rantings of menopausal women, laughter and a little bull----! Maybe I will try and remember that I have plenty of hot air with which to inflate my empty tires--and this might just be what I need to allow myself the delicious anticipation of change. It is change that will keep me safe from depression, change that gives me hope and a reason to not hate Monday mornings. Change that will keep me young.

What can I do to change one thing in my life today? That's the problem I can't thing of anything I am ready to change today. But I will leave the possibility open for tomorrow!