I’ve got the Monday morning blues. It used to be a little mix of annoyance and stress, like the feeling you get before sitting a major exam at university. You know, that moment when you wake up and realise the weekend has officially ended and the entire working week is staring you in the face. Only now that I am a mother, two new feelings have joined the powerful pity party (PPP) equation – guilt and something I can’t quite put my finger on, whatever it is we call the feeling when we desperately miss someone. I prepare myself to close the door on Juliette and Oscar, longing for one last cuddle, and I recognise it, the merciless PPP sending me into a short yet intense spiral of nostalgia about the weekend. I should probably just call it the morning blues, useless to pretend this phenomenon happens only on Mondays, though it is in fact at its peak. Thankfully, my children do not appear to suffer from said PPP syndrome. As they wave happily and blow a kiss before disappearing into the elevator, I wish for the end of the day to come quickly so we can be together again. Of course, when it does, I get the “there’s not enough hours in the day to get it all done stress” (or TNEHITDS as I also like to call it), but that’s for another post… Good luck to all mums and dads out there today!