Sunday Best
I don't like Sundays.
I like church - it is my weekly vaccination against self-pity, and truthfully, I can feel it wearing off toward the end of the week. Despite the uplift I get, it does seem counterproductive that in order to get out the door by 9:30, we are yelling and screaming and usually someone is crying.
Then usually we don't get home until close to 2. Like the Sunday dinner tradition of years past, we go out to eat, rotating between Cafe Express, Hunky's, Jake's and Potbelly, in the hopes they will have forgotten about us by the next time we visit. So when we get home, everyone is full, tired and these days, hot.
There's the post-church lull, a combination of boredom and restlessness. I rarely change out my church clothes. To do so would be like resigning myself to the fact that the best part of the day could be over. The kids are out of sorts and at at time when we'd really like them to play quietly or nap, they are at their most rowdy.
Today was such a day. Sam was punching and Jake was crying before we'd even made it into the house.
"Look you guys. It's Sunday. Free play all day. No school. You can play or watch TV or swim. Stay inside. Go outside. The world is your oyster. So let's really try to have no screaming, no fighting, no kicking, no punching, no yelling. no tattling." (You really have to be exhaustive or someone will get karate-chopped in the larynx and then you'll hear "You didn't say we couldn't karate chop.")
To drive the point home I said, "You know, it makes me not want to be here. When you guys can't get along, I wish I was someplace else."
"Like Las Vegas?" Sam asked.
"Yes, now that you mention it, Las Vegas would be nice."
But, to take inspiration from church, God works in mysterious ways. And just when I'd thought I might grab the nearest bottle of wine and lock myself in the bedroom, our angelic neighbors, Blackie and Cathy Ann, took the boys to a neighborhood picnic. When they returned several hours later, they offered to let the boys play at their house.
I'll go ahead and say it, there are times I just wish I could sit down and read the paper without the boys fighting or Abby pulling the cats' tails. But after a few hours of quiet, when you've had time to fold some laundry, empty the dishwasher and return all the Lego Star Wars to the right place, your body and soul feel a little better. And a little more prepared to deal with the rest of it.
I like church - it is my weekly vaccination against self-pity, and truthfully, I can feel it wearing off toward the end of the week. Despite the uplift I get, it does seem counterproductive that in order to get out the door by 9:30, we are yelling and screaming and usually someone is crying.
Then usually we don't get home until close to 2. Like the Sunday dinner tradition of years past, we go out to eat, rotating between Cafe Express, Hunky's, Jake's and Potbelly, in the hopes they will have forgotten about us by the next time we visit. So when we get home, everyone is full, tired and these days, hot.
There's the post-church lull, a combination of boredom and restlessness. I rarely change out my church clothes. To do so would be like resigning myself to the fact that the best part of the day could be over. The kids are out of sorts and at at time when we'd really like them to play quietly or nap, they are at their most rowdy.
Today was such a day. Sam was punching and Jake was crying before we'd even made it into the house.
"Look you guys. It's Sunday. Free play all day. No school. You can play or watch TV or swim. Stay inside. Go outside. The world is your oyster. So let's really try to have no screaming, no fighting, no kicking, no punching, no yelling. no tattling." (You really have to be exhaustive or someone will get karate-chopped in the larynx and then you'll hear "You didn't say we couldn't karate chop.")
To drive the point home I said, "You know, it makes me not want to be here. When you guys can't get along, I wish I was someplace else."
"Like Las Vegas?" Sam asked.
"Yes, now that you mention it, Las Vegas would be nice."
But, to take inspiration from church, God works in mysterious ways. And just when I'd thought I might grab the nearest bottle of wine and lock myself in the bedroom, our angelic neighbors, Blackie and Cathy Ann, took the boys to a neighborhood picnic. When they returned several hours later, they offered to let the boys play at their house.
I'll go ahead and say it, there are times I just wish I could sit down and read the paper without the boys fighting or Abby pulling the cats' tails. But after a few hours of quiet, when you've had time to fold some laundry, empty the dishwasher and return all the Lego Star Wars to the right place, your body and soul feel a little better. And a little more prepared to deal with the rest of it.
posted by Romine Family at 2:01 PM
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