Paul has always said, “the person who wrote “Easy Like Sunday Morning”, did not have children to dress for church!”.
A week ago Sunday, we were having one of THOSE days. You know the one where you start with the best of intentions and everything seems to go backwards from the moment your eyes open.
To be honest, Saturday night, I wasn’t exactly sure if I would attempt church by myself. Paul was out of town and it would be he first Sunday to get up and have everyone dressed and out the door without his help.
I should have been more prepared. We should have gone ahead and sat out clothes, buckled the car seats, etc., but I was tired Saturday night and decided to just wait until Sunday to see how I was feeling (at this point, Jackson was still not sleeping more than 2 1/2-3 hours at one time).
So, Sunday morning arrived and I felt pretty good– even after having had very little sleep in the night.
I jumped into the shower and got dressed, even down to my makeup and hair and proceeded to start working on the baby.
At some point, I realized that pretty much all the littles were missing a shoe, or pants, or something. Trying to be positive, I thought, if one of the littles has to go to church without a shoe, it won’t be the end of the world.
(I REALLY love being at our church on Sunday. It’s just sad when we miss that fellowship during the week!)
It was about mid-morning when Paul called. He was several hours from home just checking in with me to see how our morning is going (sweet man!).
As I was speaking with him, I began to hear yelling and crying….I think pretty much most of my house was coming unglued.
I started to feel so warm (keep in mind, I’m a multi-tasker…I’m dressing Jackson, talking to Paul and trying to manage everyone dressing for church).
I looked down to realize Jackson had relieved himself all over my right side. It wasn’t a small “happening”, I actually had puddles on my shirt sleeve in the folds of fabric just above my elbow.
I know better than to leave a little boy uncovered for long. I know better.
You would think that would have been the end of the morning, but as I was explaining to Paul that I needed to go and was going to need to get a shower and dressed again, I heard a CRASH from our kitchen.
The top rack of our dishwasher actually fell off the tracks and crashed to the floor shattering a good many of the dishes that were glass, including my favorite mug.
Not just any mug.
This was the mug Paul had made and mailed to me when he was away for two months last summer and just happened to miss my birthday. (You know, the same day I sent my son on his first flight and the beginning of his new job and months in California??). It was one of the things that kept a smile on my face last summer...and believe me, that was hard to do.
In any case, at this point, Matthew was crying (he was the one unloading the dishes), and I was beginning to cry.
I told Paul what was going on, and hung up with him. I explained to Matthew this wasn’t his fault and that we needed to figure out what just happened with the dishes and the dishwasher.
I stopped to pray for peace in our home and made the decision that those dressed and ready could go on to church, and those of us who weren’t needed to stay.
Just like that, it was over and everyone was smiling again.
Half of my family enjoyed church. The other half worked to straighten up the mess of the morning, and enjoy our time at home.
I tried not to think of my mug too much. It made me sad.
About mid-week, this little package arrived:
and in it was this:
Paul, had re-ordered my mug. <3
Paul Lambert, you remain one of the most thoughtful men I have ever met.
I love you more than you know, and I’m so glad to have my little mug back!