You walk into the kitchen and glimpse your husband beside the coffee maker. He’s standing there, motionless with his cup, not drinking it, but just staring out the window. You know there’s nothing astonishing in the backyard to behold. He’s simply in a morning trance. You sigh silently and trudge, fully dressed into the living room, leaving your spouse, still in his boxers, wasting time. This is how you see it.
In the next room the children sit transfixed on the television. They’re drinking the chocolate milk you made, eating the quick breakfast you prepared, and they haven’t even started to get dressed. On the couch, in neat stacks lay the clothes you laid out for everyone the night before. All they have to do is put them on.
And so goes Sunday morning.
You will have been up for hours already. You woke everyone with plenty of time to get ready, but when it comes down to it you know it will be like moving heaven and earth to get everyone out the door.
Someone will have to poop at the last minute, and if you have one in diapers they will definitely doodoo when it’s time to go. Usually after they’re strapped in the car seat.
Shoes will go missing, even if you set them out the night before.
Feet will outgrow shoes that fit a week ago, and hem lines that were fine last month will suddenly be far too short.
Someone will drop toothpaste on their shirt.
Your husband won’t move near as fast as you think he should. In fact, no one will understand the urgency of timeliness like you prefer.
You’ll encounter the worst tangle in your child’s hair of all time, and that will be after looking everywhere for the brush for far too long.
You won’t think your own outfit is flattering in the least, but you’ll still manage to throw something on in time to get out the door. The rest of the family, though, that’s another story.
It will seem like a personal conspiracy against you. No one will know how to button buttons, zip zippers, or undo knots. The mother of all wrinkles will appear on your pants, but don’t try to iron them, you’ll end up with one of those stubborn, hard water stains. Trust me.
The dog will need water, and so will everyone else. Then they’ll all have to pee.
The lights will all turn red, and your spouse will say something really annoying when you’re already on edge. You’ll think a time or two, “am I the only one that can do anything?!”
You’ll feel like you got ten people ready for church, just so you could be ten minutes (or more, if you’re me) late for service. When it comes time to get out of the car, everyone will move in slow motion. Like, super-slow motion. You’ll yell, and maybe not for the first time that morning. There might be tears. Maybe from the kids, maybe from you, maybe all of the above. You’ll rush into church with a smile plastered on your face, your heart raising from anger or anxiety, and ugly thoughts for that smart comment your husband made in the parking lot.