The 'day of rest' is anything but. Our 7th day (which is really the 1st), is a mad dash from the first light of day until the last goodnight is spoken.
First, there is a full, healthy breakfast feast. It usually includes eggs, toast, oatmeal, fruit, and a truck load of honey (and then I get to clean all of this up).
After I've cleaned the kitchen and moped the floor (I know that in Old Testament times I would be stoned because I've taken way too many steps but I have OCD, the floor has to be moped so I can go to church and feel clean), I then put Abram down for a morning nap. I hop in the shower, shave my alabaster legs, and quickly enjoy a few moments of alone time accompanied by the vibration of base coming from the basement (the girls are preparing for church by watching Jack's big music show).
I then sprint to the basement and plead with my husband to help put away the clothes I folded the evening before.
Now it is time to dress the girls.
Lulu insists this is what she is wearing to church. She says, "piddy des mom!".
Norah haughtily says she intends to wear her new pink cowboy boots. I start to say no. I ponder the boots for a moment. Yes, she does look like the rebel preacher's daughter from Footloose with those loud boots, and yes, my fellow church goers will think I am some kind of trendy diva who makes my daughter wear obnoxiously loud footwear to church, but it's not worth a fight, besides I'm always preaching the importance of letting my children choose (hypocrite).
Lulu tares up a catalog while I finish getting everyone ready, put on some make-up, find the crayons, grab some books and treats, and once again, not fix my hair.
A fight breaks out as I push the children out the door and toward the car.
As we pose for a picture, Norah adjusts her panties.
We then rush into sacrament meeting during the opening hymn. More fighting ensues, Abram chokes on the sacrament water cup, I spend Sunday school in the mother's lounge, and can't keep my thoughts to myself in Relief Society.
We load ourselves into the freaking hot car and rush home to shove as much food as we can into our mouths in 10 min. We put Abram and Lulu down for a nap and then Brad and I try to actually spend some time together while Norah interjects every 2 seconds.
Lulu wakes from her nap signaling departure time for Orem.
I load the kids into the car where another fight ensues accompanied by yelling and tears.
Brad is
always giddy about taking the trip to Orem.
At my parent's home in Orem, there is ALWAYS some sort of debate. Sunday's debate was about whether or not my twin brother's should really exclude girls who wear make-up from their dating pool. I asked the twins, whose names are Peter and Tim, "do you consider your sisters to be undateable (all 3 of us wear make-up)?". There was a long pause after the asking of this question.
My sister in-law, Sarah, considers herself to be pro makeup.
The juris doctorates looking smug.
King of the debate, my father, and more piles of folded laundry (seems the piles of laundry are hereditary).
This is usually where we make a quick exit and sprint to Brad's mom's home around the corner. She wasn't home this Sunday so it was an early night.
We then plop the kids in the tub, kiss and tuck them in bed, and ponder the miracle of our family making it though another sabbath day.
As I write this I get a call. McKay Christensen (bishopric) asks me to speak on Sunday right before the stake president speaks,
so awesome. Next Sunday is going to be a blast. Any ideas on the law of the harvest?
