Sunday's are always insane here. Are they for you too? I think it is pretty typical. Being in a house full of boys, I like to dress up. I like to wear dresses, I like getting all made up...I think it's from being around boys all the time and the fact that I am typically in jeans and a t-shirt and sometimes, as a girl, you want to be glam.
Well, like I said, Sunday's go crazy here. We are NEVER on time, we are always in a rush, it's never a nice, fun Sunday. I decided that THIS Sunday, it would be different. This is what happened....
I got up early. Like WAY early. I like nice quiet mornings to myself, enjoy the solitude, amazed at what can get done. But I do not like to get up, at all. I prefer my nice warm bed and my second day of the whole week to sleep in. But this morning, I had the bacon going while I was in the shower, I had my make up on and hair done by the time I started the pancakes, the boys were dressed, the coffee was made, poured and savored. It was beautiful.
Until I didn't know if I should wear my all black dress that comes to just above my knee with my black boots that come just below my knee without black tights in the first weekend of February. I went to ask my husband his opinion, but, that's kind of pointless so I had to call my mom. It goes like this, "you know my black dress from title nine?...." It helps that my mom is very familiar with all my clothes!
To pull off the tights I had to get a slip because the tights pulled on the dress and it was just a mess. But, I got it together, we were still just going to make it.
Until the youngest (ds4) filled his diaper, and pants, and it was nasty. This, mind you, hasn't happened in AGES.
We were late for church.
But not too late.
Sunday school over, we moved to church and all was going smooth. My handsome husband is ushering and all is sunny and bright and the boys are behaving so well.
Until I looked at the third (ds3). Something blue and glittery and sticky - very sticky - is on the bottom of his cowboy boot. Nasty. I am debating what to do, I don't want to get up and cause a scene. He looks over his boot, tries to take the sticky stuff off his boot, looks at the matchbox car in his hand....and I so knew what was happening next. His thinking process is like this...if my boot sticks to the floor, this car would stick to the bottom of my boot and then I could roller skate!
Keep in mind, my husband is ushering.
So, the sticky stuff is over the pew now, the matchbox car, the carpet...we had to make a move to the bathroom and FAST. Leaving the two oldest behind in the pew, I take the two youngest with me. I'm in there, scrubbing the nasty something off his boot and the car and explaining that this is not a good idea at any time but especially not during church and I literally hear snickers in the stalls. I thought we were alone.
I send them out of the bathroom, telling the to go QUIETLY to Jr. Church. DS4 looks back and yells "I'm the fastest!" as he runs full throttle for the gym. Everyone hears, of course, because the ushers are headed back in the church doors for church.
Church was good, dinner was good, I got a nap and all seemed well. My husband took the two oldest boys to a nephew's hockey game and I had a meeting at church I took the younger two to and all was sunny, bright and good.
Until I got home. There, in my window box, is an opossum. It is blocking the door, I'm scared to death of the nasty rodents, and all my manly men are gone. However, I can't very well let it get away because we have a chicken house full of chickens. I will always defend my chickens!
The opossum was even more scared and pulled the, "I won't move and they won't see me" approach. I hollered at the boys to stay put in the suburban, told my dog (who travels with me all the time, in the front seat) to guard the boys and ran for the back porch for the broom - it's my weapon of choice. It's the only one I am an expert at using.
In the meantime, my ds3 gets out of the suburban because he is sure I have purposefully left him behind. He is wailing and screaming about how he wanted to see me and walks right past the opossum and into the house and turns to see it staring at him. He screams, slams the door and when I make it around the corner to him he is on the porch, staring out the door screaming, "I don't like that oposum!" Meanwhile, ds4 is still buckled in the car seat screaming "LET ME OUT!" at the top of his lungs.
The opossum is snarling.
My husband is now rushing home because I have called him and he was nearly home already.
I am standing the middle of the driveway, armed with a broom, in my Sunday clothes, glaring down an opossum saying things "you don't look at me like that!" and the sheer humor of it hits me and I start laughing - hard. How can you not?
This, THIS is a typical Sunday, where the day turned out to by perfect, here with four boys out in the country.
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