Sundays make me tired. I love that there is a day where we ignore the world. There is no shopping, no errands, no chores around the house. I love that we go to church, and feel the Spirit, and see our friends, and take the Sacrament.
But our typical Sunday is packed. Either my husband leaves early for meetings, which leaves me to get myself and the girls out the door, or we all have to go in early for meetings. (In which Kiddo watches iTouch movies to keep her dancing to a minimum.) Then my husband takes Babs for the first hour while I settle Kiddo into nursery, unless I'm running nursery because none of the leaders have shown up. A half hour later I do singing time with our small but rambunctious primary. They are, all ten of them, converts within the last year, so everything is new to them, the songs, and the idea of reverence, sitting in your chair, scripture stories, etc.
Then for the second hour, I run to grab Babs so my husband can take his responsibilities as Elders' Quorum President seriously. He is usually teaching, and she makes less an impact in nursery rather than an adult class. I usually need to feed her somewhere in here.
Then I gather the girls (including a potty run) and head up to the chapel. Someone asked me yesterday where the chapel was. Upstairs, I answered. He then politely asked where the stairs were. I smiled and replied, out the door, and in the other one. Then suggested he wait and follow someone up. (Here is an accurate set of directions: Leave the portion of the building with the classrooms, and go outside. Then you go in the adjacent set of doors that brings you into the public portion of the building. Walk to the end of the hallway, there are a set of elevators on your left. Go to the second floor. Upon exiting, head to your right, the chapel is the first set of doors. No, you can't take the stairs because all the stair entry doors are locked.)
During the third hour, I lead the music, and attempt to keep an active 2 1/2 year old relatively quiet. And keep her distracted from the fact that the other kids are doing active fun things in the back.
Then we have choir practice. This may or may not start with a walk downstairs so we can turn around and walk back upstairs. I usually still am responsible for at least one child, depending on what crisises we're fielding, and what responsibilities my husband has. I am definitely leading the choir, and am sometimes playing the piano too.
Then we drive home, with a small chorus of "I'm not tired. I don't want to take a nap," emanating from the back seat. There is no correct response to these comments. Any response pushes her towards tired hysteria. Non-response induces her to repeat herself again and again.
Is it any wonder we all crash into bed for a while when we finally do get in the house?
Yet for all this, early in our time here, I was impressed that our time here at this branch would be fulfilling, and that we would look back fondly at this time our whole lives, as a time when we could be so involved and so meaningfully engaged. And that is already true.
