When Sunday Isn’t a Funday
By:
Bobbie Byrd
Parenting is hard. The funny thing is that when you’re a parent of a baby or toddler you hear non stop the words, “it will get better”. So you brace and gird your loins for the day that it will get better.
It’s basically a huge joke people play on new parents.
Let’s just face it – it doesn’t necessarily get better.
Yes, being a parent is amazing and glorious in ways that words can’t define. But I’m pretty sure it’s also the reason that I’m prematurely grey. I wrestle with the choice to dye or not to dye daily.
Let me introduce you to this past Sunday;
The dogs woke me up so that they could go outside to do their business like they usually do. There’s nothing like a dauschund sitting on your chest, staring you in the nose to wake you up with their stinky breath.
I stumbled out of bed and found two of our three girls up and dressed. Winning.
The third one appeared, laid on the couch while whinning that she wanted to stay home and sleep rather than go to church. I get it, I do, and I felt similar but once you get up and go you’re always glad you made the choice to go. “Just get dressed and you’ll be glad you did,” I said.
Well they were but I wasn’t.
Pull up some ominous music on your phone and hit play.
Mr. Byrd had to leave a few minutes before us. I asked all the girls as soon as he walked out of the door if their teeth were brushed, hair finished and they have their shoes and jackets on. “Yes!” they all cried as they stared at their iPods, lost in Minecraft.
Spoiler – One of them lied.
I yelled reminders that this needed to be done two more times before I emerged from my room, fully ready to get in the car and leave.
Two kids went and climbed in the car, one ran upstairs before I saw her.
In a nutshell, she was far from ready to go.
Spoiler – Mama got a little mad. She was grounded from her iPod for one day.
She’s 9 so how long can it really take you to brush your hair, teeth and slip on shoes? Less than 5 minutes.
Right? Wrong.
10 minutes later she runs downstairs with unbrushed
hair, looking frantically for her shoes.
Her shoes had magically disappeared. Every. Single. Pair. Of. Them.
Let’s just add 24 hours onto that time grounded from the iPod. Done.
I needed to step out of the house for a few minutes to get my temper under control.
It didn’t really work because I accidentally left the outside gate open. Suddenly there was a streak of black fur being chased by more black fur and brown fur shoot past in my peripheral vision.
Wait. We have a black down and a brown dog.
Those are our dogs, furiously chasing a neighborhood cat down the street because I left the gate open.
Church started 15 minutes ago and the two kids who are ready and myself are running down the street, chasing the dogs who are chasing the cat. We provide free entertainment for our neighbors, daily.
Finally we put back into the gate and the third child is sitting in the van, with shoes in hand, ready to go.
Life is getting better. We really can get to church.
Wrong.
Halfway to church, just after we get past the red light that is so extremely slow I hear, “oops. I have one of my shoes and one of my sisters.”
And they are both left feet shoes.
iPod? Ask me about it when you’re 18.
When does it get easier because I’m kinda hopeless.
We did get to church, let’s not talk about how late we were. Luckily they let people into church that has visible steam coming from their ears.
The entire afternoon seemed to be similar.
Nothing was working.
And then we decided to go play tennis as a family.
It was beautiful outside. The sky was amazing and we had fun.
Except for when one child was hit in the face with a basketball and now has a purple chin.
And then another fell on the tennis court and got two bloody knees.
Because you know, it gets easier.
Just keep telling yourself that, parents of toddlers and babies. Lies, it’s all lies.
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