Last Sunday Chris woke up and had a bug up his butt to go to church. We hadn’t been since before Christmas because of issues with putting Eva in the daycare and just general laziness. I was surprised by his new-found motivation to do something on a Sunday morning but was also kinda glad because I have been wanting to go. All in all we had a great day, church was great, music was great, and Eva actually did not cry a tear the whole time in the daycare. Success!
This Sunday we had every intention of going back and I was excited we would be making this a regular thing and that Eva would get used to going and feel even more comfortable there. Chris made breakfast, I took a shower, we were right on track until Eva decided to be the little heathen toddler that she is and not let me get her dressed. Me, being in no mood to run after a 2 year old for the tenth time that morning threatened her that we would not go anywhere if she didn’t come get dressed RIGHT NOW. Of course she still didn’t listen and I was determined to follow through with my threat.
About an hour goes by and I suggest to Chris that we try to make the 12 o’ clock service. I won’t get into all the details but that attempt ended with another confrontation involving bean burritos.
I hate a wasted Sunday and am having a hard time getting over all the free stuff that was going on today that we could have done and instead have been holed up in this houes on such a beautfiul day. I love just sitting aorund and relaxing on Sunday’s but this Sunday has been full of confrontation and anything but calm and relaxing. Instead of sipping coffee and reading the paper I have been vacuuming up those annoying little spiders that hide in the corner of my walls, vegging out on the computer, and crying in my daughters bedroom while she wipes my tears with me feeling like the saddest excuse for a mother there ever was.
Sundays are for sipping coffee, cutting coupons, and CBS Morning News.
Sundays are for hanging out in our pajamas until noon, reading the paper, making banana pancakes.
Sundays are for being lazy but also for tying up loose ends.
Sundays are for the daddy to change the poopy diapers.
Sundays are for two year olds to spend hours playing with the change jar.
Sundays are for doing what you love with the ones you love.
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