Sunday: The Day of Unrest

 (I wrote this almost exactly a year ago.  I realize, after reading it, that perhaps I sound like I don't like my kids!  This just isn't true!  The truth is:  I like my kids BETTER on Saturday!  :)  The best thing about finding this long-buried post?  This picture of Owen hoisting Cora up like a scarecrow on a pole.)

Ah.....Sunday.  

The day of rest.  

The day to contemplate sacred things, search your soul, concentrate on rejuvenating for the work week ahead.  

It is a day of introspective reading, a leisurely stroll or a quiet nap.  It includes meaningful conversations and enjoying a peaceful family meal.  Sunday means a day of worship where you fill up your spirit with important truths and gain better understanding.

Yeah.  Well...

In my world, Sunday is opposite day.

Opposite from everything that is mentioned above.  Opposite from peaceful, restful, rejuvenating, leisurely or quiet.  

I read with longing about the couple that wakes up when their internal clock says it is time.  NOT when a 3 year old clock wakes you up by chirping, "I want some bress-sis" or a baby rattling her crib from the closet 8 feet away.


I hear that many people on the planet enjoy a nice cup of coffee (OJ, if it were me) and read the paper or do a crossword puzzle.  I drink the dregs of milk from the bottom of somebody's cereal bowl and dispense syrup to the ravenous horde.


There are khaki and navy pants to crease. (Which is Jay's particular part of the chaos.  That man knows how to iron!)  And button-up shirts to rebutton 127 times because one, two or three of the boys didn't quite match up the holes correctly.


And then there are the church socks.  Don't get me started on the church socks. They must be co-habitating with my bobby pins and Jay's collar stays.

Church shoes get pulled out from behind flip-flops and Drew has a fight with the slippery laces of his shoes.  Now he's reduced to tears and I'm scowling and thanking my lucky stars that Owen and Kai have slip-on church shoes.

There are bed-heads to tame and bald heads to adorn.

By the time my make-up is applied and we're all in the car, I'm sweating like a pig and my make-up has gone south.  I've yelled no less than 27 times, "Hurry up!  I don't want to be late!" which is met with exactly 8 eyeballs staring blankly back.

After I've lugged my hooligans and a 15 pound bag of "quiet books" into the church, we find Jay (who has had early morning meetings) and settle in a pew long enough for 12 people but somehow all of the kids end up leaning, sitting or resting on me and Jay.  I spend the next hour trying to stop my baby from yanking out my hair, pulling down my shirt and grabbing at my dangly earrings.  (Accessories are a thing of the past, I'm afraid.)  

I've got Kai putting his feet up on my lap, wrinkling my skirt, when I realize in horror that I'm trying to bring the ancient Chinese custom of foot binding to my own little corner of the world......Kai's shoes are easily a size and a half too small and his feet are crammed into those suckers.  

I blurt out the few words that I remember from the hymn we're singing because while my hands are holding a squirmy baby, they can't be holding the hymnal.

Partaking of the Sacrament bread and water is a perilous affair where baby hands are grabbing for the water and grubby boy hands are grabbing for a fistful of bread.  Owen still plugs his nose when the bread is near and Kai makes the tiny cup of water seem like he is gulping down a gallon.  

After his noisy swallows, he loudly says, "Ahhhh! Refreshing!"


At least someone is refreshed.

The speakers are certainly talking about important things.  Things that my soul needs and desires to hear.  But this is what I hear.....


"charity..."  (and then Owen has to go to the bathroom.)
"the pioneers..."  (now I'm thinking that we need to have a lesson on how to teach a 3 year old to whisper.)
"service..."  (Drew complains, "Owen is bothering me!"  Add the 8 year old to the whispering lesson.)
"prayer..."  (now Cora needs a diaper change.)


"Amen."


Well, at least I got "charity, the pioneers, service and prayer."  
Now I'm all agitated and frustrated and wondering when church will be like it used to be.....pre-kids.  I drop Drew and Owen off in their classes and Kai rushes into nursery.  Jay has Cora in his class and I'm doing my calling as a counselor in the Primary Presidency, trying desperately to keep 57 kids reverent while teaching them about keeping their bodies and minds clean and pure.

Just as I take a breather in the hallway I hear a familiar cry coming from the nursery.  Out pops the nursery leader with a tearful Kai in tow.  

"I think he's got something stuck in his nose," he says.  

Kai pulls his finger out of his nostril and says, "I can't get it out."  

I peer into the dark abyss of his nostril and see nothing up there.  I haul him to the bathroom and wonder how you do the Heimlich maneuver on a kid's nose.  Kai blows hard into a Kleenex 3 or 4 times and out shoots a Cheerio.  Kai is relieved and goes back into nursery to finish his snack.  Hopefully this time the food will be placed in the correct orifice.

Now it is time to go home, change clothes, remind the boys that their clothes go on hangers not on the floor of their closet, scrounge up something good to eat and focus on remembering the importance of the day.

Peace, be still.