Day of "rest"

Whenever I think about the phrases people generally use to describe Sundays, like "a delight" or "a day of rest" I always chuckle to myself because in our home they are anything but (though we try). I was awake until well past 1:00am with a screaming baby. When I became too exhausted to walk the floor any longer I placed him in his bouncer and laid on the couch next to him. He cried and cried until we were both in tears. He finally decided to nurse and we settled in the rocking chair in the wee hours of the morning. After a good half hour of that he finally fell asleep and I placed him in the crib. Half an hour later one of the little boys barged into his room looking for me after a bad dream and woke Ollie. I was frustrated and tired. So tired. While I rocked and nursed I thought about how unfair life is and tallied up the many diaper changes (well over 250) that I've done in his short little life, and then I cried some more. When he fell asleep I placed him in his crib. He placed one hand on his cheek and the other on his chest and I couldn't help but pause at his crib side and admire his long fingers.  

Our house woke early (of course) and the morning routine began with breakfast. Then we moved onto bathing and dressing. The other two are independent and Joseph eventually came up to get dressed with a little help from Daddy. I nursed Ollie and then bathed him because he smelled like baby barf. A freshly bathed baby is always easier to love. In hopes of staving off requests for food in the middle of church I poured the children each a glass of chocolate milk and handed them a pumpkin muffin before we headed out the door. Daddy left a few minutes before us to give someone a ride to church. The big kids managed to get themselves into the car and Camilla agreed to belt Finley in to his seat. I nursed Ollie to make sure he'd last through sacrament meeting while I listened to Finley screaming in protest to his sisters help. Then I belted Oliver into his seat and made one last frazzled pass through the house to turn out lights and grab extra diapers for the diaper bag.  When I got to the van we got through the "he hit me" "she poked me" "Finley wiped his boogers ALL over me!".... and then I turned up the primary songs and drove out of the garage. We arrived with a few minutes to spare and Daddy came out and helped me wrangle everyone into the chapel. 

They all sat well for the first five minutes. Camilla happily held her sleeping baby brother while a wiggly Finley sat on my lap and Joseph squirmed on the bench between Daddy and I. Hyrum held Oliver until he started to stir and then I passed him over to Daddy to put back to sleep. After the bread and water Daddy left to walk the halls with baby and I was left with the rest of our crazy crew. Camilla and Hyrum both jumped up to the front right away, excited to share their testimonies. They did so great. It was Hyrum's first time and I was proud of him. When they joined us back on the bench they were noisier than usual and I rolled up my sleeves and prepared for the worst. Camilla and Hyrum wouldn't stop giggling, Finely kept screaming at Joe and Joe kept pestering everyone around him and was sitting upside down with his feet in the air. I rubbed my tongue across the inside of my lip and it hit the sore I got last Sunday when Joe headbutted me in the face during the opening prayer. A twinge of frustration overcame me.  I gave Camilla and Hyrum a sharp warning before hauling the little boys out, one under each arm, and finding an empty classroom. Joseph sat on a chair and practiced reverence while Fin hung out on my hip. We weren't even there a minute before the two of them started giggling at each other over my shoulder and ignoring my pleas for reverence. An over-tired mommy is not a patient mommy and I was on the brink of losing it when Daddy came to the rescue. We swapped kids. I got the baby and Finley and retreated to the mothers room and he managed the older three in the chapel. 

Mr. Stannix and I met up after the meeting, exchanged tired smiles and headed off to Sunday school together. As we sat there I wondered what we could've done differently to make this morning better. Sundays are tough, and some days it doesn't matter how much preparation goes into it, something always happens. But even though it's hard right now I know it will be worth it later! It will be interesting to look back on our crazy Sundays after our kids have grown and try to remember the happy chaos that made the day special!