Why is it that Sunday surprises me every week? You'd think that I'd be used to it by now, and actually do something to plan ahead. Here's a typical Sunday for us:
**Wake up leisurely (read: try to pretend to sleep in while the kids kill each other downstairs) and then have a nice big time wasting breakfast, because Church starts at 11, so we have plenty of time.
**Finish breakfast and look at the clock. I have an hour and a half to shower and shave and change and get everything ready. No problem, that's plenty of time! (can you see a pattern here?)
**I hop in the shower, Jon gets the kids ready.
**1 hour later (yes it really does take me that long to shower and shave) I hop out of the shower and realize I have a half hour left. No problem, I know exactly what I want to wear.
**I get my outfit out, my skirt doesn't fit like I thought it would, there are a number of unexplained stains on my top (why am I hanging up dirty clothes? I ask myself), so I begin to look for something that fits well and is clean. I end up going through about 3-4 different outfits all the while wondering why I can't bother to dry clean, or iron, or steam, or try on a single thing during the week..
**Finally I'm able to pull something together (which isn't nearly as cute as what I had planned), Jon reminds me that we have 15 mins before church starts, and since I prefer to be on time, this means we should already be in the car. This also means that I must go another week without putting on makeup (and thank goodness my hair is already hopeless--there isn't anything I could do to make it better even if I had all the time in the world), so I tell myself that I'm still young enough to pull it off and I grab some shoes.
**Jon and I then scramble to get everything together, the kids, the diaper bag, the bottle, the snacks, the church-appropriate books and activities- and then we all pile into the car. We're going to make it! I think naively.
**We begin to hurriedly (but reverently) file into the back door of the Church when I notice my kids for the first time: Gabe's pants are too short because his legs have long since outgrown his waist size (and continue to grow). That's ok, I tell myself, everyone understands that. Then I notice his hair, besides being more than a few weeks overdue for a haircut, it's a total mess. Then I notice Greta is having the same hair problem. "Didn't you bathe the kids??" I ask Jon--he didn't. So I rush them to the bathroom while He gets a seat.
**I frantically try to wet and finger comb my kids hair into something resembling combed hair when I notice that Greta is wearing the same dress for the third Sunday in a row despite the scads of cute dresses she has in her closet that continually go unworn. I make a note to myself: Must remember to lay out Greta's dress early next week. Then I notice her shoes are ALL WRONG despite the fact that she has scads of cute shoes in her closet that would match this dress. And her shoes I add.
**We hurriedly (but reverently) walk down the hall to the Chapel, all the while I am making solemn promises to myself to NEVER let this happen again. Must plan on Saturday! I berate myself. Suddenly that annoying primary song has validity.