On Monday through Friday mornings, you’ve got getting everyone dressed and out the door on time down to a science. Come Saturday night, you are in no mood to plan, or iron, or lay out clothes, or anything that resembles work. So you don’t. Then Sunday morning arrives and it’s as if everyone’s closet has suddenly gone completely barren of anything appropriate to wear to church. You quickly grab a sweater dress and white tights from your daughter’s closet and urge the opinionated six- year-old to please just put on the tights and dress. Surely nobody will notice that she’s worn it the last three Sundays, but it’s the only one that fits and you promise yourself you’ll take her shopping soon. Ten minutes later, she comes waddling in to your bathroom, complaining that her tights feel funny. You tell her that they are supposed to be uncomfortable, and that she’s just going to have to get over it, but she continues to whine. There’s just no satisfying her so you finally hike up her dress to make adjustments only to find that the crotch is hovering between her knees. A quick check indicates that she’s been trying to squeeze into some size 3 tights, and you immediately feel guilty for dismissing her. You run to find a bigger pair, but alas, there are none. Has it really been two years since you bought white tights?!
So you scrounge until you find a pair that will fit, only the new tights are black, which means she needs to change her dress, which means she now has to wear those black shoes that she says pinch her feet… most likely because they are a size too small. And you make a second mental note to take her shopping soon. Meanwhile, your three-year-old is still running around in her Dora-the-Explorer panties and you’ve yet to get out of your jogging pants.
I have girls, but if I had a boy I can imagine what the scenario would look like. He’d probably emerge from his room in that ring-bearer tuxedo he wore in a friend’s wedding two years earlier. His white socks would peek out from under his high-water tuxedo pants and he would insist on wearing this get-up with his Nike tennis shoes, since they’re his favorite. Am I close?
And then there’s getting you dressed. Remember when you promised yourself you would go dress shopping? And then you got to Dillard’s and refused to pay $80 for that amazing, but oh-so-expensive, dress so you left all irritated and empty-handed. Now it’s Sunday morning (again) and you find yourself staring into a closet filled with jeans, and dress pants, and ancient bridesmaid dresses, but NOTHING that will work for church. So you put on your skinny jeans, flats, and that faded cardigan (again) and you just pray that you don’t have to run into her. You know her. That mom who has the cutest boutique dresses ever! Yeah, you know who I’m talking about. Does she really have to look so adorable every single Sunday? Plus she’s genuinely such a nice person and that makes it even worse…because you can’t hate her.
Have you noticed the one person I haven’t mentioned in this whole charade? That’s right, your husband. He’ll have no problem finding something to wear to church. He never does. And that’s just ridiculous.
2. You Have to Feed Everybody
If you’re anything like me, you absolutely loath grocery shopping! Saturdays would seem like the ideal day to complete this heinous chore, but you’ve worked all week and the last thing you want to do on Saturday is put on a bra and real clothes, just so you can go get food. So you don’t. Besides, there’s an America’s Next Top Model marathon on TV, and you’ll go later.
But now it’s Sunday morning, and everyone’s hungry, and there’s nothing but a bag of gummy snacks and an expired pack of oatmeal in the pantry so a drive-thru it will be. Of course, needing to pick up breakfast means you should have left ten minutes ago. Get everybody in the car and buckled into their car seats. Pull out of the drive-way and get half way out of you neighborhood. Turn around and go back home. Run inside the house to get your Bible that you forgot. Now you can head to McDonald’s.
You place your order and nearly choke on your coffee as you realize that you are about to spend $23 on fast-food breakfast for your family of four people. Now mark my word. Somebody’s biscuit will be wrong. Somebody will spill something. You will be late to church.
3. There Will Be an Argument
You can’t say for certain if the argument will be between you and your spouse, between your kids, or between you, your spouse and your kids, but there WILL be an argument. Maybe it’s you accusing your husband of not helping you get everyone ready to go to church. Maybe it’s your husband, accusing you of always “guilting” him into coming to church. Maybe you and your spouse are just fine, but your children are at each other’s throat and you’d give ANYTHING for just one, peaceful Sunday morning in the car.
There’s no time for apologies now, because you are pulling into the parking lot. Dust off the crumbs from your biscuit and pull down the visor to give your face a look. Did you forget to put on mascara? Yep, sounds about right. It’s too late now, so slap on a smile. It’s Go Time. Rush the children to their classrooms…hopefully nobody will have a meltdown today. Give a heartfelt hello to “Boutique Dress Mom”, because, ugh, she really is so genuinely nice. Settle into your seat next to your husband and breathe a sigh of relief. You made it.
Now lift your hands and give praises to your Savior. Leave your worries at the altar. Take sermon notes and commit to review them later. Forget the fight in the car and give your husband’s hand an apologetic squeeze. You’ll have some good make-up sex this afternoon. Everything will be okay. You’ll try harder next week. Sweet reader, I know that Sunday mornings can be the absolute worst. But keep going, because they are absolutely worth it.