So it is Sunday, the Sabbath, the Day of Rest, a day to just recharge and get yourself spiritually and physically ready for another week. Jon has to work today but I am still feeling pretty confident in my ability to make myself and three children presentable and in a pew by 9am..ish. 9:03 rolls around and we are getting ready to load up in the van and even though we won't make the opening hymn I am feeling good about the morning's progress and looking forward to some much needed spiritual nourishment. Apparently the only dish on my spiritual menu today is PATIENCE. We are at the front door and I am trying to help Caden squeeze his very wide feet into his one and only pair of church shoes, which have magically gotten too small since last Sunday. Our only other options for foot wear are a muddy pair of tennis shoes or his "camping shoes" (black rubber shoes, you know the ones with the holes in them). I convince him that camping shoes will work great for church and being a boy, really doesn't get fussed about the whole thing. Problem solved, well done mom. So I scoop the baby up, take a quick visual sweep of the house and realize that I don't see or hear the dog. Come to think of it, I haven't seen him all morning and I realize that I took his shock collar off the night before, you know, the one that keeps him in his yard. Nothing to be done at this moment, I send a silent plea heaven ward that he will be on the front porch when we pull up after church and pop the baby in her car seat and announce that we are really leaving now. Ella looks up and says, "ewww, mommy you have pukey on you". Yup, while I was tearing around the house looking for the dog the baby threw up on me and all over herself. The sad thing is, it was kind of a lot and I didn't even notice. The clock is ticking and I have missed the opening hymn, the taking of the sacrament, and am now into the first speaker. So do I take a wipey to the sour milk all down the front of me and try to cover the stench with an extra spritz of perfume or do I dive into my closet for a complete outfit change? I am still deliberating as I wipe and sniff one of the only dresses that currently fits me and I hear a scream from the kitchen. Caden had spilled grape juice and it totally soiled Ella's dress and according to my little drama queen, "It's RUINED! My favorite dress! My very special dress! MY PURPLE DRESS!" How exactly did this morning go so wrong? In such a short amount of time I now have three people needing out fit changes, one person who is at least dressed but who looks like a fashion victim, a missing dog, a baby who wants nothing more than to take a nap, and I realize that in my haste to make it out the door, I haven't fed anyone breakfast. So we all traipse up stairs and I trade my nylons for my yoga pants, throw a sticky Ella in the tub, a sleepy baby in the crib, and any hope of spiritual nourishment out the window.
I'd like to chant that verse about serenity right about now but I can't seem to remember exactly how it goes. Maybe if I was at church right now, I would be learning it. Instead, I am full of pancakes, and sitting in bed with the kids and the children's illustrated bible reading about Samson (the kids picked the story based on the pictures and who wouldn't want to read stories about a guy who can wrestle a lion?? Although they don't think much of the fact that he has long hair like a girl)
5 comments:
Oh Shama, it sounds like a rough morning. I was able to get all the kids ready and we made it to church on time this morning. Once we got there, is when everything fell apart for me. After my fifteenth trip out of the chapel with a screaming toddler on one hip and a sobbing fourteen month old on the other, we just sat in an empty, dark classroom, while I wondered why I even bothered. I just kept telling myself, it's an off Sunday. Next week will be better. Enjoy those kiddos! Miss you
Ok, you win. I thought I had a comical beginning-of-Sunday story, but this one beats mine by miles. I'll still tell it (Trevor got a kick out of it). Trevor and the boys went to church while I finished up with Sarah. She HAS to be carried or she melts down and we were running late, so I didn't insist on her walking. Here is the breakdown:
1. Sarah goes into the kitchen while I gather our "stuff"
2. Pick up Sarah and stuff and go toward door
3. Drop keys, put down Sarah to get keys, watch Sarah go back to the kitchen
4. Pick up Sarah again, go toward the door, drop Sarah's sweater that she refused to put on
5. Put down Sarah, pick up sweater as Sarah goes back to the kitchen
6. Pick up Sarah and go toward the door. She and the "stuff" now seem to weigh 50 lbs. each.
7. Get to the car and wrestle Sarah and her lovey into the seat. Get to church after the announcements. I was sweating!
By the way, I once asked my Mom why we even bother going to church at all when all we do is sit out in the foyer or walk the halls with fussy kids. She said something that struck me as very wise and made it all worth it--by going to church every Sunday, no matter if all you do is sit in the foyer, you are being an example to your children that church is important and where you should be on Sunday. The habit will be there for them as they get older. :)
Wait! Hello? Did we have the same morning? We ended up on the couch reading 1 Nephi and watching Nephi and the brass plates........
OH SHAMA!! I am laughing so hard right now!!!! I can picture this so perfectly because it happens to ALL of moms! It will pay off and you know it! I hope next sunday is better! I miss you!
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