Why is Church so early?

An example of my inner dialog, Sunday morning, while preparing for The Kid's First Communion.

Alarm goes off at 7:50am.
Mass begins at 10:30am.

Coco is crying. I snuggle back into pillow. Coach brings her in to bed. Ugh. Except, she is so cute. Tink follows, We yell into Kid. He yells back.

I'm not going. Why is church so early??

He gets up. Gets in bed with us. This is cute, except our bed is not big enough for all these kids.
Coach, starts making Cinnamon Rolls. Pillsbury celebration. We all follow. Cinnamon Roll morning, has lit a fire under them.
I start to pull out all their clothes. Coach retreats to bedroom to dress himself.
His Outfit #1: Stupid, stupid 9 year old white cotton shirt from Rue 21 and jeans.

Um, no, you can't wear that to First Communion.

He changes.
I start icing rolls. Apparently, I am the only adult present, educated in the proper icing technique. Secret, perfect cooling time to icing thickness ratio. Enhanced by cheating those kids out of my extra icing. I keep the center roll. I deserve it. They don't know the difference. Give a roll to Coco. I'll bet this is how childhood obesity starts. Oh well, she can starve/exercise when she is older, like the rest of us.

Outfit #2: Coach walks out in his very nice suit, with stupid white shirt under it. No tie. What is he, Miami Vice?

No, that doesn't work. Lose the white shirt. In fact throw it away.

Coach retreats back to bedroom.
Tell Kid to get dressed.
Why do the Communion girls wear tiny wedding dresses and he wears a lame white shirt and black pants? I don't get it.
Emergency, run Tink to the bathroom. Why does she always wait to the last minute? Will she ever be tall enough to get herself on the toilet? Will I be helping a 9 year old, Tink, hop up on the potty?
Tell Kid, to get dressed, again.

9:00am. Take my first look in a mirror. Still in jammies, not showered. Why is my face exploding? Do I have to look like an infected leper for the communion pictures? Couldn't it explode on a plain Tuesday?

Why does it take The Kid so long to get ready?

Kid, put your shoes on!

I can't. I hate these shoes, I hate how they squeeze the top of my toe on the right shoe. I hate brushing my teeth. Why is church so early?

Me: (In my low, scary, intimidating voice) You better, get those shoes on right now or I am canceling your party and you can give back each present that....

Interrupted by Family Friend, walking into house, to drop off dish for party.

Coach yells from bedroom (still picking out an outfit) Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you, Tom is stopping by with food.
Awesome. Love that I am screaming crazy at my kid, with my exploding face, in my pajamas. No bra, not that it matters.
Thanks for the heads up, Husband.
Tom leaves. Resume yelling at Kid.
Outfit #3: Same stupid White Shirt, khaki paints, brown tie.

Coach: How about this?

Me: Take off that stupid white shirt, don't show it to me again or I am giving it to Goodwill. Stop being a little girl and pick out an outfit and help me with these brats!!

9:25am.

Outfit #4: Khaki pants, blue suit shirt and cute tie. Fine, wear it. Does it even matter? He can wear jeans and be cute in his radiating awesome Coachness. Meanwhile, I haven't even showered. Screaming at Kid, turns high pitch. He wants to take a book to read.
He finally, prepares to leave early with Coach for pictures. Make Coach, take Coco with.
Tink remains plopped in front of TV. Oblivious to life.

9:34am.

Finally, enter the shower. Bathroom door opened, so I can listen for kidnappers entering home. Check out mirror again. Hate Coach for not reminding me someone was walking in our house. Hate Coach for never having an exploding face. I will have to be like a Professional Make-up Artist today. Shower in about 3 minutes. Freezing, with door open. Think to myself that just maybe, I was more pretty in New Orleans because I didn't have to spend 2 hours making the 3 kids cuter than myself.

Look into closet. Hate my clothes. Why do I only buy yoga tank tops and pajama pants? Grab black pants, only black heels, some kind of double shirt combo that may not match. Will color enhance or distract from The Exploding? Throw clothes into dryer to get out wrinkles, no time to iron.

Frantically, start to slop on makeup. Not working! Why didn't I exercise this week? Why did I eat cinnamon rolls? Crappy breakfast, guilt.
Except, I am still hungry.

Me: Tink, come here, I need to do your hair!

Tink: I can't. I can't neber go to church.

Me: Tink, now!

Tink: No danks.

Grab her. She is wearing her bike helmet. Why does she have to look so 'special' all the time? Brush her hair. It is time for another pixie cut. She fights to put helmet back on. Explain, she will not suffer a serious head injury at church.

Totally out of time to fix myself up. Hair still wet. What just happened to the last 3 hours? Remind myself, to keep exploding face and wet hair, out of pictures. Last minute, clean the bathroom, shut bedroom door, pick up miscellaneous mess. Coach is ready, smiling, waiting by door.

Coach: Why does it take you so long to get ready?

Me: Bleep off.

10:22am.
Leave for church.
End scene.



Congratulations, to my son. From the moment we left for church, during mass and the cook-out following, went beautifully. It was a lovely day.
Just maybe, not a lovely, early morning.