Day of....Rest?

I woke up on the wrong side of the bed yesterday morning. It may have had something to do with the fact that the bed I woke up in wasn't mine. In fact, it took me a minute to realize whose bed it was.

(And let me tell you, that hasn't happened to me in a very long time).

Oh, I'm kidding. That hasn't ever happened to me.

But anyway, as I woke up and looked around, and realized that I was surrounded by toys, and books, and clothes, I thought that, well, that it looked just like it does when I'm in my own bed. Except that I was lower to the ground.

I looked over and saw feet sticking out of the covers next to me. Boy feet. But small. Relatively speaking. And then I remembered that I was in B's bed with O, and that, once again, I had sent B to my bed when O woke up in the middle of the night.

And then I thought how this whole middle of the night bed swapping thing was getting very, very old.

I started thinking about how much it would cost to build an addition so that everyone can have their own room. I started thinking about moving to a bigger house. Or a smaller house.

By myself.

But then I wouldn't get to wake up with cute boy feet sticking in my face, so I quickly put that thought out of my head.

I realized that it was Sunday, and that Jimmy had already left to go crabbing to work, and that N had CCD, and that I had to bring everyone to Church with us, which tended to never go so well.

So then I rolled over and went back to sleep.

And when I woke up, unfortunately all of that was still true. Except now I only had twenty minutes to get us all there.

I improvised. N went to CCD, and the rest of us said a prayer in the parking lot and went to the grocery store.

I'm sorry, God, but I have to think you understand. The play room wasn't open, and chasing two crazy boys who are terrorizing our fellow parishioners just so I can say I went to Mass just didn't seem like the best idea this morning. Please, forgive me.

OK, fine. It also just so happened that one of those boys had somehow left the house without his shoes, and I really didn't want to hear them announce that the second collection was for the lady with the poorly behaved barefoot children, so that she can buy them shoes and/or a muzzle.

Once I picked up N and finally had my first cup of coffee, things started looking up. Until we got home, and the fighting began. I attempted to clean a little. They fought. I attempted to do dishes. They fought. I attempted to do laundry. They fought.

I thought about how I had the only children who fought this much, who screamed this much, and who throw things at one another's heads.

I attempted to lock them all in their rooms and add Kahlua to my coffee, but realized that then I wouldn't be able to drive anywhere, and we would all be stuck at home. Together. For the whole day.

So I let them out.

And then, even though I thought it had to be nap time by now, we went to the pumpkin patch.

Because, when all else fails, just go somewhere.

We went on a hayride. We took pictures. And looked at the animals. And picked out a pumpkin.

And no one was fighting. In fact, they were laughing, and smiling, and, well...pleasant.

I thought how lucky I was to have such pleasant children who never fight, or scream, or throw things at one another's heads.

And who were all wearing their shoes.

On the way home, B sounded very serious as he said "Mom, I'm sorry that O is so difficult some times".

N said "Oh yeah, O is really difficult, B".

At this point, O realized that his name was being used in vain. "I'm difficult, Mom?"

No, sweet boy, you aren't difficult. Not at all.

But sometimes life is difficult. Just a little.

Fortunately, we have church parking lots to pray in, and Starbucks, and pumpkin patches, and husbands who bring us home steamed crabs after they were crabbing working all day.

Fortunately, we also have nap time.

Sometimes, for everyone.