My day starts nice and early (like it always does) when Joseph appears at my bedside. It is still dark and quiet outside and I am surprised when I look at the glowing clock on my nighstand reading 6:30am. This time change has been a doozy and after a week of waking up well before 6:00 in the morning to tantrums and cranky, sick kiddos I am okay with getting out of bed to start the day now. The two of us make our way downstairs for a morning play date. I dim the lights and we whisper together until the rest of the house wakes up.
The requests for pancakes immediately start and I muster up the strength to move my body off the floor and up the stairs to make breakfast. Camilla goes up ahead of me and measures out the flour in the mixing bowl to make my job a little easier. When it comes time to pour the milk it comes out in big chunks. I check the expiry date and am baffled because I thought we still had a week to go until it went bad. Mr. Stannix does some googling and discovers that our fridge wasn't set at a low enough temperature while I dig through the freezer in search of a loaf of bread. I luck out and find a spare loaf near the bottom. Joseph then requests french toast to which Camilla replies, "Mom, don't we use milk for that?" I knew we could get away with out it and then remembered the tiny bit of cream that I had left in the fridge. That'll do perfectly. By now the children are ravenous and starting to push each other's buttons. My patience thins as I whisk the eggs. "Stop poking him!" I order. The boys then argue about wether we are having pancakes or french toast and neither will listen to me unless I shout. Joseph is whining at my feet, "I want my french toast mommy. My tummy is STARVIN'!" Finley is squealing from his highchair and I am working as fast as I can. Soon enough the first set of french toast comes off the grill and order is restored. They fill their bellies with breakfast and orange juice and then it's time to get ready for church.
The older two dress themselves with quite a few reminders to keep them on task and then they get free time to color or play. Joseph has been running around all morning in just a new pullup so I eventually get him to his room to dress, but can't find a pair of socks for him if my life depended on it. We finally come across a pair left in the hallway and dirty or not they will have to do. Finley is next, his little body wiggles and squirms while I change his morning diaper and wriggle him into his clothes. He laughs and screeches at himself in the mirror while I button his shirt and then shrieks with excitement when I finally let him go. Joseph and Finley crawl around from room to room laughing when I finally have a few minutes to get myself ready. Despite being up early, the last few minutes are always chaotic.
Daddy gathers the kids up to get their shoes and jackets on while I finish curling my hair. I listen to the chaos from the bathroom and shout out helps like, "They're in the closet!" "Just wear the running shoes!" "His coat's still downstairs!" I slip Finley's arms into his jacket mid crawl and scoop him up. I buckle him into the van and then go back inside to collect the last few things and put on some shoes. My mental checklist runs through my head the entire time I dart around the house. Bottle, gum, water, pencil, blanket.... And then we're off.
When we arrive I unbuckle Finley and can't help but sigh at the fact that he STILL has purple marker on his forehead since I forgot to bathe him this morning. Hyrum makes his way out the other side of the van with some awesome bed head and Joseph is wearing no tie and his spider-man shoes. The children hang up their jackets and then we take everyone to get a drink and go pee so we don't have a repeat of last week. While Joseph waits on the older two I wet his hair down and comb it with my fingers so it only looks slightly crazy. Joseph and Camilla head to the chapel hand in hand while I wait on Hyrum. Finley starts screeching as soon as we sit down. Mr. Stannix and I roll our eyes and he takes the little man out to the foyer to get him to go for his morning nap.
I keep the other three sitting as reverently as possible but Joe quickly tires of drawing and prefers dropping his pencil through the crack in the bench so he can crawl under and retrieve it. After the third time I take the pencil away which results in a fit so I scoop Joe up, crawl over Daddy who has Finley sleeping on his shoulder and find an empty room to practice reverence. While we are waiting an older boy walks by with his arms folded and Joseph points out how reverent he is. Then a younger boy whizzes by with his arms swinging and Joseph points out how not reverent he is. I chuckle inside and it comforts me to know that at least he knows the difference even if he finds it hard to control his tiny body, at least he's learning. When he's finally ready, we fold our arms and walk to the chapel (as close to a run as he can possibly get without being irreverent while a mischievous smirk forms on his lips). I guide his head gently when we make it to our bench to keep him from running all the way to the front of the chapel. It doesn't last long before he's asking for a drink and begging to leave again, but luckily it's time for the closing song and we convince him to wait.
The children skip off to primary together, Daddy takes Joe to nursery and I take over our screeching baby for the next two blocks and settle into my new calling teaching a sunbeam class full of four year olds with another mom. Thankfully it passes quickly and before I know it I am walking around gathering children and guiding them to the van to buckle up. Then it's home for lunch, snacking, and family time.
At the end of my day I reassure myself that it won't be like this forever. One day we will be like that family with older children sitting still in the third row from the front and these chaotic days will be a distant memory. One day my children will sit quietly through church and learn things (if they aren't already) and Sundays will be filled with love and joy instead of lost shoes, demanding toddlers, and screeching babies. Despite the craziness I still come home with an overwhelming love for my children. The chaos doesn't necessarily come because they are "bad", it's more of an age thing. I still count myself blessed for the minimal challenges we really do have, but it's nice to document the crazy for later so that I can look back and smile at the things we've learned and overcome. Even though Sundays are tough, I believe that they are worth it and will pay off in the long run!
