I think it is the height of ridiculousness that, when we wake up on Sunday morning, fresh and ready to go to church, that the morning often collapses into a yelling match that would rival most professional yodeling contests in sheer volume and irritation.
We intuitively know we need two full hours to get the Nowell show on the road. That gives adequate time for bathing, dressing, eating, and getting everyone settled into the car. Plus, of course, drive time.
Since we need to be at church by 9, it would reason that we should get up by 6:45a.m. This morning, it's 7:15a.m. and Mike isn't even out of bed. Me? I'm blogging.
And I wonder what the "boondoggle" in this plan is? UM.
About 8:42a.m., this is what our house will sound like
Some parent "COME ON. We have to go."
Some kid or kids "I know."
Some parent "Have you brushed your teeth?"
Some kid or kids "Yes." Lying. Flat lying. A quick check reveals so.
Some parent "HURRY." There is no time for the parental chastisment regarding the actual toothbrushing lie. That will be dealt with in the privacy of the car.
After toothbrushing, Some parent will say "Where are your shoes? And socks?" To at least one, if not, more kid. The parent's eyes will be flashing fury because the shoes and socks were laid at the feet of the kid who has no Earthly idea where they ended up.
Some kid or kids "I don't know."
Some parent "OH MY GOSH. I put those shoes and socks at your feet 15 minutes ago! (heavy sighing) It goes like this every Sunday. What is the matter with you guys? We are going to be late for church. AGAIN....."
(The SAME parent is still going FIVE MINUTES LATER and hasn't taken time to breathe. This parent is now really red in the face and their pitch is so high that neighborhood dogs are beginning to bay)
"....AND BUCKLE UP THAT SEATBELT. WE'RE LATE." It is now five minutes until nine.
Generally, the griping in the car continues until someone manages to turn on the radio and find a preacher doing his thing. Or Christian/symphony music. Any of those shocks us back to the proper attitude for a Sunday morning and quells the screaming adult(s) in the car.
And that brings us back to the point of this blog.
WHY do Sundays always seem to go this way? They should be lazy, relaxing, peaceful mornings. But, since having kids, they are, in no way, like this. A quick check of my lady friends reveals it is like this in more houses than just my own.
What is it? The devil? Children? Slow risers? Bloggers?
I'm sure it is some lovely combination of all of the above.
What's darn sure missing, in the midst of all the freaking out, is God. Thank goodness our destination includes him on Sunday mornings or we'd all be in really big trouble.