God made Sundays so I could get saved…because every Sunday morning trying to get us out the door, I lose the Lord…and have to go to church and get him back.
I know I’ve written about it (a couple times, forgive me, still struggling with it) about how tricky it is to get two kids ready and out the door early enough for rehearsal and still be in one piece.
I know I should just thank the good Lord that I don’t have to be there any earlier…my husband leaves an hour (usually more) before I do. That right there should send me into the Hallelujah Chorus.
Today wasn’t even all that difficult, but I was still frazzled by the time I got there. My son did wake up at the crack of crack, but that’s okay. He missed his nap yesterday and fell asleep around 6 PM and then cried when we tried to wake him up…so we let him sleep…
He slept all the way through the night. Weeha.
But then he was ready to play ball at 6:34 AM…and even earlier, actually…
Greyley, on the other hand, woke up at the last possible minute. She’s a preteen now, it’s showing…she’s wanting to sleep in these days…this time a year ago, she LOVED to get up early. Not anymore. She dragged and drraaaaaggged. She is slower than Christmas, God love her. The girl does not have a hurry bone in her body.
I ask her to help Indie with the cereal because I’ve made the horrible decision to straighten my hair…at a late hour. Why can I not just give it up already? It is not in my hair’s destiny to be silky hair. But still, I try to salvage it.
We still have a few minutes before we have to go, but Indigo is still not dressed. He’s trying to see what all he can get away with taking to church. Can I take the ball? Can the Lightning McQueen keychain flashlight go? Should I bring the backpack?
Then, the clothes I put on him…they “hurt when I bend over,” he says…
“Well, don’t bend over then,” I snap.
See? Just hateful!
Snap, snap, snap. Grouch, grouch, grouch.
I’m reminded of how Indigo USED to be on Sunday mornings and have a brief moment of gratefulness. He used to pick that time when I was getting ready to do all his worst mischief…
Even though our time of getting ready is easy in comparison to that, I think I have new lines on my face every Sunday morning by the time I make it to the car. Things that are normally easy just seem harder on Sunday mornings. Why is that?
Once I’m in the car, I breathe a sigh of relief..whether we’re running late or not. Then I call my parents and we chat all the way to church…some of my niceness returns by the time I actually get to my spot on the organ bench.
Whew. It’s a good thing Sunday morning only comes around once a week. Makes me tired just thinking about it.