Sunday Rush Hour

Sunday mornings are always hard for me. As much as I know I should be more of a morning person, I'm just not. I set my alarm for as late as possible for church. (I'm just using Sunday morning for an example). The alarm will go off and my arm will fly over my head, hit the snooze, and I'll snuggle my pillow and pass back out. I will do this two or three times and then fly out of bed once my head clears and I realize I now only have 45 minutes to get myself and my 6 kids out the door. Wow! Okay. So I run inside my walk in closet. Find something that looks churchy but awesomely cute. Then our routine is for me to set out the girl's clothes and Charles will assist them. The boys dress themselves but there are times where we have to send them back into their room 3 or 4 times. Chaz will come out with his sleeveless basketball shirt and black dress pants. He tries to talk me into agreeing that it is a perfectly respectably outfit. Maybe he could even add a tie to it. Kyle will come out with 3 shirts on. He'll tell me that he wants a wardrobe with options. That way if he's in church and he doesn't feel he looks good enough, he can simply take the top shirt off and have another that looks good. Then if that one is just not snazzy enough or catches someone's eye, he can take that one off and have one underneath. Or they'll try coming out with mismatched socks. It's pretty frequent that Chaz will walk out with a sock that goes up to his knee and his other sock will be one of those low rise ones. Then when I tell them they need to go do their hair, Ryan will walk back out with a mohalk. "Ummm...Ryan, I don't think so. You don't wear a mohalk any other day of the week. You're certainly not wearing one now." The things they try to get away with. So I wake up at 8am and hit the snooze. Usually by the time I'm up on my feet, it's about 8:15am. By the time I get my coffee and get myself past zombie mode, it's 8:30am. Well, by that time I only have 45 minutes to be out the door. Somewhere in between 8:30-9:30am (which is when Sunday School starts) a miracle happens and we are all groomed and looking good. I smile as I walk into the front doors and act as if I had gotten up at 6am. And yes... my kids even ate breakfast. No I'm not yelling or freaking out. We just have a system that works and it works well. I'm not saying it'll work when their teens. Ha.