Waking up Late

"Chelsea, wake up, it's 7:35!"

It's Sunday morning and we need to be at the church at 8am for sound check. Because my husband is the Worship Pastor, my job as his wife is to be the unofficial-official substitute. Today, I was playing in the handbell choir.

I rush to the guest bathroom to grab my makeup and throw it in the car. I have to keep all of my toiletries in there to keep Ollie out of it. I run a brush through my hair, throw a dress and shoes on. Do I really want to wear this? No time, stuck with it.

Of course, my high-mantanance animals demand on getting fed daily. One of them got into the cabinet where we keep the food and chewed a hole in the bottom of the bag. My dog is insistent on staying right at your heels so I am trying to balance the bag and carry it over to the counter without kicking the dog, spilling food all over the floor, and letting the cat break my fall.

Last person I need to get ready is Ollie. Okay, he hasn't started to wake up yet. I'll just pick out his outfit and then wake him. And I hit him with the door. Why does he insist on sleeping right next to the door? He is a little disoriented but accepts his milk while I rush to get his outfit. Oh, I left his shirt in the living room. I have the diaper, shirt, and pants. Where's Ollie?

I grab Ollie from our room, who isn't happy when I take him away from his dad. I put him down to change his clothes. Ollie is now imitating a calf that got into a tub of butter and who is being tied in a rodeo. He is doing a great impersination as he rolls, flops around, and cries while I insist he wears a diaper.

Lucy starts barking because we are in a rush and she thinks the best way to help when there is chaos is to start making loud noises. Ollie crying, Lucy barking. Aaron walks to the door.

"STOP STANDING THERE AND GRAB HIS BAG!" I  yell say sweetly, like a Disney Princess who woke up with a face full of makeup and was dressed by birds.

I finally wrangle the greased up calf and finish putting his clothes on.

We make it into the car. Aaron looks great, Ollie looks great. I have bags under my eyes and there are still sheet marks on my face. We have ten minutes to drive to church.

"Hey, we made it in time! Not bad for people who woke up late," says the husband who is always annoyingly calm and happy.

"I'M SO SORRY! I DID MY BEST! I HAD TO TAKE CARE OF EVERYONE TODAY!" cries the histironic wife who is overly-critical of herself and defensive even though no one is critisizing or blaming her in any way.

We made it in time with coordinating outfits of black and white polka-dots. I told Aaron we can sleep in every Sunday, because we can obviously make it on time.

Sometimes I like to test how nice of a guy Aaron really is.