Getting ready for church is no small feat in our house. First of all, everyone needs to be clean. At the same time. In the spirit of portraying ourselves as something we generally are not, we like to show up at church freshly bathed and wearing clean clothes, looking like a wholesome, All-American family. Occurrences of all five of us being bathed and cleanly dressed all at the same time are rare. The boys usually bathe at night. Small gets a Bio-Hazard Bath when he has a particularly eventful day in the diaper department, and then sporadically throughout the week. Mommy showers
sometimes. But on Sundays, we all bathe or shower before church.
|Bio-Hazard Bath . . . straight to the sink; do not pass GO.|
Hubby had to go in to the office today, so the arduous task of getting everyone ready for church was left solely to me. We needed to be at church and in Sunday School class at 9:45. Naturally the process began at 6:45. Small had an eventful morning – see reference above. I stuck him in the bath first. Large came into the bathroom when he heard all the splashing and general fun-having, so I got Small out and ran a bubble bath for Large and Medium. Honestly, getting them ready for church was a breeze. They bathed without splashing, dressed themselves for church, and met me downstairs for a hearty breakfast of cold cereal and gummy vitamins.
The hard part of getting ready for church is ME. I got everyone settled and preoccupied so I could have a few minutes of alone time to get ready. I just colored my hair on Friday night, because I’m a party animal like that. (Doug walked in to the bathroom and saw this: me, still dressed at 8:30 pm in my workout capris and tank top left over from the yoga class I took at 8:30 that morning, with my hair parted dramatically at 20/80 and slathered in an orangey paste. I winked and asked him if he wanted to “hit this.” He immediately announced that he needed a beer and took off for a friend’s house.) Because this morning was a wash-my-hair day, my legs look like shag carpeting.
My biggest challenge came when I put on my stockings. I know, who wears stockings anymore? (And who says stockings? Well, ME, because I hate the word pantyhose.) I decided to wear stockings this morning because my legs are so white (and hairy) that I really felt it is what God would want me to do when visiting His House. Putting on stockings is like stuffing a sausage, and it looks just as sexy. As usual, I stuck my thumb through the material as I was attempting to stuff that last bit of
fat leg into the reinforced panty part. I could almost hear the little threads of fabric screaming for dear life . . . “Must! Hold! On! Just! Stretch! A Little! More!” Nevertheless, I continued inserting my wobbly bits into the stockings and reminded myself that when I am making my weekly prayer for patience perhaps I should also pray that the hole doesn’t visibly extend below the hem of my skirt before the service is over.
We made it to church on time, and I was able to offer my silent apologies for being so cranky last week, and AGAIN to ask for patience with myself and my family. So I’m gonna put his out in the Universe - these are the virtues with which I need help, in no particular order:
- the Willpower to put down the Thin Mints, for the love o’ pete.
- a little Solitude. Just a little. Even just using the potty without an audience will suffice.
- Humility when I know that chick in the convertible BMW is checkin’ out my Swagga Wagon. Because I got it goin' on!
- enough Patience to not get frustrated when Medium says, “um, I think I forgot to wear underwear.”
- the Fortitude to build a strong army, even though I always get stuck with the tan guys, who are seriously outnumbered by Medium’s green guys.
- Frugality until my replacement Starbucks gold card arrives in the mail. Currently I’m paying cash for my caffeinated goodness. What are we, cave men?
- Common Sense. If you found your yoga mat to be directly behind Cap’n Balsac (he of loose shorts and increased flexibility,) you’d move, right? Me? Halfway through the class before I realize my mistake. . . .
- Sobriety. At least until next Friday at 3:30 or so, when my girlfriend comes home from work so we can go to our Happy Place.
- Vitality, especially at 6:45 a.m., and preferably in the form of coffee.
- Modesty. I’ve been told I could use some.
It seems I have plenty to work on this week.