I hate Sundays. It's incredibly spiritual of me-I know. But I always have. I think it started with the school days...you know, the dread of starting the school week. And since in my mind I'm still a 'young adult', I've never elvoved past the melencholy of Sundays. It seems like the end of all the fun and the beggining of the....rest. I love the weekends now because it means Paul is home, sleep, meals out, no laundry....teamwork. But, I still dislike Sundays because they signal an end to the weekend (man that was quick) but mostly because it means we have to mobalize and "get to church". This is terrible for many reasons I could name (or complain of), but to give you an idea....I will just tell you about today (which was, by far, the most successful venture we've had in 1 year).
I will spare the details of getting ready, but it basically involves me dictating orders (this sets a great tone, right?) from the shower on how to start getting the kids ready. By the time I am out of my 2.3 minute shower, the whole family is waiting on our bed for further instructions. G is already crying because I don't want to go to my class and I AM wearing my spiderman pajamas and WAIT JUST A MINUTE LILAH (who would regularly nap, but was being forced into something pretty, and pink, and smocked). I am trying to decide how wet is "too wet" for church hair and if lipgloss, and mascara counts as "ready. Paul is all "what shirt do you think" and I am all "which ever one is faster". Garrett lags behind the race to the door because he's gathering up toys he wants to take with him, as if he's going off to war....which, in his defense is how he views sunday school. After a spanking (it would not be pre-worship without one) for refusing to get in his carseat, we make it to church (late) and snag a visitor/special needs spot (don't anyone tell me if you don't think we qualify).
We arrive during the first prayer to find the back 10 rows roped off (to promote a more intimate feel)...I have a feeling the powers that be might rethink that strategy after the poor row 13B had to suffer through a fussy, un-napped infant and a 2 year old who paced the row behind them asking for 'something new' 16,385 times and then rustling all the ziploc snack bags he found in my purse. At that point Paul and I start exchanging meaningful glances and it is non-verbally agreed upon that L is too noisy and should be taken out. Good bye Paul. After thuroughly enjoying the kneeling portion and then finding the songs unmoving...the little prince declared he was "ready" to go to class. I hop from my seat to usher the guy back there before he changes his mind and miracle, he goes in like a champ. (If I've failed to mention this before....tears,leg clinging snot, screams, chase scenes....that's usually how he rolls).
On my return to the sanctuary, I heard my baby crying and found a very frustrated dadda and very sweaty Lilah. I took her to a secret roccking room and then snuck back into the sancuary to *gasp* hear the sermon. I snuck up to the balcony because sweet L snores like a water bufaloo and I was afraid no one would be able to hear (because I couldn't:). At that moment I realized that Paul and I were actually worshiping in the same room--definate progress. It's still really hard for me to be surrounded my other kids Lilah's age, especially as their development widens the gap even more. I can't help my self from watching a little boy climbing the pews, or sweet pudgy arms reaching out to say "I love you momma".
The final moment of notice came when P retrieved G from the nursery and , from the balcony, I could see sweet Paul's face pouring out praise for G's successful day and then I hear Garrett say, loudly, "I WANT MY NEW CAR NOW!" I laugh for 20 minutes because a. I'm slightly embarassed that all of my church knows the secret to my parenting genius (ha!) is bribery and b. if that's all it took for a good day at sunday school, why the hell did I not think of it a year ago????
I shouldn't say I hate Sundays...right now I'm snuggled up against my man watching football (boo!) and eating whirly-pop.....and that's pretty great. I think I just need to adjust my expectations about what Sundays should be. Current vision looks something like this.....sleep in, have great, slow coffee, hang out with husband, shower, church on time with greetings before and visitations afterward. lunch anywhere. home to read paper, take nap. repeat. maybe exercise. My new goal is just to make it in the building, fairly clean, and with everyone still claiming the family.