Sunday Mornings

Yes, I’m aware it is no longer Sunday morning. I have not lost it that bad, yet. Sunday mornings at our house are an interesting mix of both chaos and relaxation. We attend church if I’m feeling brave enough to take the tribe in to a quiet, public setting that day. I enjoy attending church, feel very lucky to have the small, tight-knit church family we have and enjoy listening to our pastor. That being said, we do not make it every Sunday. I am going to recap yesterday morning so you can appreciate sitting thru a church service with the tribe.

This Sunday morning was our Sunday off. We were all out of bed by 7:30, church starts at 10:30. This means we have approximately three hours and fifteen minutes to get ready to attend service. One would assume this is enough time. Ha ha ha. By the time we are all coherent and start moving around we’ve already lost an hour. I go about getting everyone their desired breakfast, which makes me nothing shy of a short order cook. Mornings never used to be this way, but somehow in the past few months I cook, pour or spoon to order. Eggs, toast, yogurt, cereal, oatmeal, etc. The list can be quite lengthy some days. After breakfast we proceed to bathing and personal hygiene.

We’re now looking at 9 o’clock. Now down to an hour and fifteen minutes. At this point in time my phone starts beeping with messages of family plans. I quickly excuse myself from them for the moment, knowing if I get distracted we will not make it. I chuck the eldest two tribal members in the tub together. After they add all the bathing necessities, included but not limited to bubbles, balls, several water squirting toys and a mermaid Barbie, the actual bathing begins. I’m frantically scrubbing over shouts of “I can wash myself!” Well that may be true, but we lost at least 10 minutes with adding bath toys. So they are washed, chucked out of the tub, dried off and underweared. We don’t dress them until the last minute. You would be surprised how much they can get on clothes in a small amount of time.

Next comes the cleansing of the littlest tribesman. He is easy and quick. No protests, no complaining and lots less square inches of body to bathe. He gives cute smiles and coos. Acts almost appreciative that I’m washing him down. It’s nice to feel appreciated. I cherish these moments because I know that too soon he will join the tribe, learn their ways and fully become one of them. He is dressed and ready to go. After having a bath he decides he needs to nurse. This kills twenty minutes. The whole time he’s nursing I’m praying he doesn’t spew all over his cute little outfit when he’s done.

Tom has elected to stay home today. In the big picture this saves us time, but worries me that it’s just my mom and I manning 3 children during service.

This leaves me with 20 minutes to bathe, dress and make myself look as presentable as possible. I’ve gotten fairly good at doing this in a small amount of time, I must brag. My biggest dilemma is my hair. I bit the bullet and had it cut short awhile ago. I do love my new ‘do. However, I have some pretty wavy hair. Not the desirable waves that look all sexy and add body to your hair that you see in TV commercials. No. I have the crazy wavy hair that is rebellious and doesn’t want tamed. I give up, throw in some product, blow dry and pull part of it back with a clip. Problem solved.

We’re now looking at five minutes to make it out the door. **Disclaimer: I have no idea if these times are adding up** The hubs packs a diaper bag with enough toys, snacks and changes of clothes to see us thru the apocalypse. This is probably still not enough to keep the eldest two entertained. Oh and a bottle. Henry may need a bottle during service.

It suddenly dawns on me the eldest two are still in underwear. We grab clothes and begin dressing. All the time hearing from the tribal leader “I can dress myself!!” Well we do not have time for a four year old to put her own tights on today. By the grace of God, we make it to the car, in car seats and down the road in ample time this week. We weren’t late, hurrah!

This brings us to church. They march in like the sweet little children they can actually be. Sit in the pew next to Ma-Ma and begin to entertain themselves. Today was practicing writing and eating fruit snacks. Emma went up dutifully for the children’s sermon, Taylor is boycotting them for some reason. This has happened the past three times at church, I’m not sure what this is about. Emma comes back, all is well.

At some point in time there’s a disagreement between tribesmen and a small squabble takes place. Some tears, a small word exchange and it’s over. This results in Taylor sitting on my lap, Emma sitting by my mom and Henry sleeping peacefully. Now one would think you could sit there and cherish a few quiet moments, sitting with your little boy in church singing a hymn. This is where he turns all weird on me. He begins licking me. Repeatedly. I’m quietly asking him to stop. Trying to change where he’s sitting so he can’t lick me as easily. To no avail. There’s only so much you can do to stop a child from licking you during a church service without causing more of a scene than he already is. This was apparently not as noticeable as I thought, much to my relief!

Don’t fear he’s not done. The middle tribesman needs a potty break. We go out, he goes potty, all is well. Unbeknownst to me, as we go back in he has taken his dollar for offering out of his pocket. No biggie right? He proceeds to make a “mask” out of it and puts it over his eyes… that’s all I’m going to say about that. Thankfully it was stopped quicker than the licking, which picked right back up after the dollar was put in the offering plate. All the while Henry is blissfully sleeping.

We sing the last hymn, much to my relief. As we get up to leave, the elderly lady behind us leans forward. Now you’re never quite sure of the conversation that’s going to take place. I somewhat freeze. “It’s such a joy to see your kids here. They’re great to see and make me laugh a little.” Phew!

I enjoy church. I’m glad the eldest tribe member has started asking about going to church. It helps get me out the door on Sunday mornings. My Sunday mornings may be rough sometimes, but they’re worth it. Most Sundays church is followed by a nap. A long nap.

 

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One thought on “Sunday Mornings

  1. so funny and so true!! I remember those days well when my kids were that young. But I have to warn you at ages 9 and 11 they still find something to squabble about if they sit near eachother in church. Luckily they attend a Catholic school and attend Mass once a week sitting with their classes and not together!!

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