Our Sunday bests

I have never been very good at pretending.
Well, ok at pretending to be a pirate or a monster or spiderman, or whatever role my 3 year old assigns me.
I mean the pretending that the rest of us seem to have down to an art.
The kind where everything is fine. The kind where I at least appear to have it all together. I generally like this about me. I think it makes me authentic or something.
Sunday mornings, however, are a different story.
I'd give anything for the four of us to make it to church on time and sit quietly in our pew during church. I would love, for just those few hours to at least "look" like I have it together.

Most Sundays......well most mornings involve me trying to figure out what to wear.
that still fits and doesn't make me look fat (well, at least not fatter) and requires minimal ironing. I don't have too many options here. This mornings choice was a shirt with a stain on the back and that desperately needed to be ironed ( didn't get that) and a skirt that was on the too small side ( and could use an iron, although not quite as badly as the shirt).

I fed Tess and laid out some clothes for her ( hers of course were cute and managed to match). I started the long and involved process of waking up Owen, laid out his clothes, stressed to Shaun that we needed to move it we were going to make it on time and hopped in the shower. I reluctantly admitted that there was not time enough to dry my hair. This could be ok becuase slightly dirty hair always straightens better anyways.
A quick shower and I got up and dressed Tess, and tried to kick Owen into gear. Of course the clothes I picked out were not to his liking. Argued over wether or not his pjs were appropriate for church. We ended in a compromise. No pjs, but also not the cute shirt I picked out either.
Back to me, but only long enough to put in my contacts. A glance at the watch and I realized that not only would I have to put on make up in the car, but that I would have to do my hair there as well. The flat iron would have to wait, but I did find 2 cute clips that would suffice. I hoped that pulling it up in them would transform my slept on look into pretty pulled up waves.
I managed to find socks and shoes for Owen and Tess ( well just socks for her)......but my brown shoes were missing from their usual hiding places ( under the couch, by the front door or even occasionally in the kitchen). I slipped on some worn out black flats instead even though they obviously clashed with my khaki skirt.
Owen is asking for a snack and we are already late. I put some cereal in a baggy along with the snack he didn't finish last night and fill up his cup with some juice. He is not happy. I promise him a donut hole after church if he is good. And then siliently pray, "please God, don't let them run out of donut holes this week before we get one". Breakfast for me, I just hope someone remembers snacks this week at Sunday school or I might eat my styrofoam coffee cup.
I load everyone up in the car and am thrilled to see my brown shoes on the floorboard. We get out of the driveway...in time to only be 10 minutes late...and as much as I hate to do it I ask Shaun to stop. I grab his keys and go back and get a bottle for Tess. She has to eat too I suppose.
So back on our way, and time to get started on my hair and makeup.
makeup, well I missed that class in junior high but made do with my minimal skills and even put on eye liner ( usually reserved for very special occasions.)
My hair is worse than I remembered and search frantically for the clippies that are going to transform me into something presentable.
One of them is missing.
I try so hard not to cuss so that I don't hear "mommy said a bad word" harping at me from the backseat.
I suddenly just want to go home and crawl back in bed.
All the packing, running, sock hunting suddenly seem pointless if I have to walk in with bed hair.
I'm afraid Shaun will leave me on the side of the road if I even hint at this so I ride silently the rest of the way to church picturing everyone else in there ironed clothes and perfect hair.

We get to church, and slip into our side pew ( for easy escape w/ owen or Tess). It is hard to really pay attention...trying to keep Owen from coloring on the seat and Tess from screaming but I like the four of us sitting together. I normally don't care to let everyone know about my messy life, but just once I'd like to fit into a size 6, not to look like one big wrinkle, or to have freshly coifed hair like all the "mommies" in the pews next to me. I wallow in this a bit until I look down and realize that you could braid the hairs on my knees.....and that maybe the hair on my head is the least of my worries this morning. Also the spit up on my blouse will nicely camoflauges all the wrinkles.

3 comments:

Alyssa said...

I love that you are authentic! I think you need to see about getting this published!

Dawn said...

It is all about perspective because from mine, you do have it together! I was impressed on Sunday that you made it in a skirt...in case you didn't notice, I had on jeans, we were late and I hadn't showered either. I noticed in Sunday School that I had some long hairs on the tops of my feet staring at me. (I did remember to take care of those at my next shower.) And I thought I was the only one who didn't have it all together!

Brickmomma said...

Yes.yes.yes. - send this in, get it published!