One of those mornings

I woke up this morning, with my little babe tucked under my armpit (thinking I must remember to wash her head before church) and hearing the happy sound of my boys playing. Playing together. Not fighting. It was a wonderful....and rare (this time of day) thing.

I jumped in the shower quick. And it wasn't long before I heard the sounds of the cold, hard truth- it was going to be one of those mornings.

The littlest boy started in pretty quick with his routine morning "terrible two's". Nothing is right. Everything is wrong. Although he had a pretty good excuse (compared to his usual no-reason meltdowns) for what started it all.

Daddy gave the bigger brother the bowl that the little brother always uses.

Poor Daddy. Like a frog minding it's own business about to be run over by a lawn mower.

The bowl was immediately dumped over, milk and cheerios and all. And so it began...

The older one decided to take his sweeeeeeeet time getting dressed. Some words flew.

Then the littler boy decided that his brother was wearing his pants. And no pants in the world could make it right. He refused to get dressed. He was nowhere to be found when it was time to put shoes on, and then when he appeared, wanted any shoes but his own. He refused to empty his bladder before we left. Then, amazingly, he asked for help. After Daddy came to help, he screamed at him, "I want to do it by myself!!!"

Daddy had, by now, had enough of "The Exorcist" reenactment, and was ignoring him.

There was snot everywhere. LOTS of snot.

We nearly threw in the towel several times. But I was determined to go to church, even if I had to go by myself (oh, how wonderful that would have been!). I knew we were discussing anger in Sunday school. And I knew I needed to be there for that!

We were almost ready to leave. The kids were all dressed and out the door... I don't understand why, and I don't understand how... but it's the honest truth. (I really don't know how single parents do it all)

But like most moms (I like to think I'm mostly normal) I had gotten everyone ready but myself.

I prioritized....and quick. Luckily I was dressed.

Brush teeth.

GROSS! I had grabbed the boys bubble-gum flavored, sparkly toothpaste. Nasty. But at least my teeth were clean.

I flew around the house gathering a few diapers, bibs and spit rags. The last time I left the house without diapers, I found out what can be done with a box of tissue and mom-spit, if the situation requires it. I learned that lesson well, and will never forget diapers again.

I grabbed my shoes. UGH! Chicken poop on the bottom of my shoes!

There was no time left.

I ran out to the car, where my beautiful, snot-smeared and crabby family was waiting for me.

I made a mistake. I ran out to the car with my shoes in my hand, instead of on my feet.

Now there was chicken crap on my sock too.

It's 9:13 and we were going to be late. My husband gave me that look. I'm trapped in the car, so I start thinking.

I am going to church with chicken crap on my shoe and my sock.

(sigh)

At least my teeth are brushed.

I forgot deodorant.

My stomach growls, and I realize I also forgot to eat breakfast.

I am thinking about a Chinese restaurant, and a meal called "Happy Family". I imagine the Waiter with a thick Chinese accent, and a genuine, huge smile with perfect white teeth "You order happy family???"

My husband says, "What is that?", pointing to something slightly shiny smeared on the radio display.

My mind goes blank. I have no idea what that could be. I try to think about what happened the last time I drove the car. OH NO!!! The incident that required tissues and mom-spit!

"It couldn't possibly be baby poop, could it?" (I changed her in the front seat, and it really was a complete and absolute disaster)

He bellows, "You'd better get a Kleenex and some mom-spit and clean that up!"

I'm laughing. I think the whole thing is funny. Seriously funny!

The boys are fighting again. The little one is crying because, "I'm all wet! He sprayed me with a hose!"

I take the pretend hose away from the bigger brother and put it in the glove box. I tell him he can have it back when we get home.

He's too smart for that. He's laughing hysterically, "NOOOOO you don't Mommy!!! It's glued to my hand!!!!

I give up. We're going to church. That's the whole point of church, isn't it? To give it all up...

And we even made it on time. Just barely.

One of the verses we explored in our small group Sunday school was:

Ephesians 4:32 "Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you."

I'm sitting here tonight, thinking I'll do my best to remember that one.

And yes, please give me the "Happy Family".