I think it's appropriate that my fight with God began on the evening of the last supper. Because it's totally appropriate to pick a fight with God as you enter the remembrance of the biggest sacrifice anyone has ever made ever. Also, in retrospect, last week was not exactly my last supper. But hyperbole is not new for me. And that retrospect could also be the Spring Break talking. At any rate, I arrived at Good Friday as most families do: dragging a kicking and screaming child.
Friday was a short-ish day at work. I needed to survive four periods, then lunch and the talent show. I love the talent show. It makes me feel happy to watch all my kids get up there and bravely sing Adele and dance their 12-year-old hearts out. This year, however, I had a new and unexpected reaction to the talent show. The "OMG I have a daughter and is she going to be the one singing showtoons or the one wearing the microscopic shorts doing what can only be described as pole dancing to some nasty song about objectifying women and OH MY GOSH I DON'T WANT A DAUGHTER" reaction, if you will.
So...yeah. I enjoyed it. Except for the heart attack. That part was rough.
After the talent show I did the afternoon pick-up dash with a little extra stress and hustle. I woke Emma up from her nap at the babysitter's, which I hate doing because girlfriend needs all the sleep she can get, but we had to be at church by 4. We got home and had to quickly change the kids' clothes and run out the door. This notion was not accepted well by Benjamin, who'd clearly not taken a nap at preschool and who's used to watching a show when we get home. He had a full melt-down, about his dirty school wolf shirt of all things. He did not want to wear his nice clothes--he wanted to wear the shirt he'd worn all day that's two sizes too big and covered in a day of preschool boy wear. I took the obligatory picture anyway, because we worked hard to get that outfit on him, and Emma looked super cute. She was as confused about her brother's freak-out as the rest of us.
Matt was in a big fat hurry, so he locked up the house before I could get my purse and Emma's diaper bag. So we arrived at church, with no diaper bag for the baby and no phone for me, which is how you get paged out when your kid loses their self-control, which I was convinced would happen. Matt dragged Ben to his class, and I dropped Emma off at hers. Then we sat in the service, which was already starting, all worked up and agitated from the last hour of crazy. By the end of the opening worship I was a sniveling mess.
Don't pick fights with God, especially Easter weekend. He will always win. It's that whole "I died for you" card that he pulls.
Ben settled in just fine. We had a hard time getting him to actually leave. We had a nice dinner. Good Friday was saved.
Easter Sunday was starting off the same way Good Friday did. Running late, crabby kids, crabby parents. But we pulled through. My dad came down for the service, which was nice. Emma stayed with us because she had a cold. She passed out during closing worship, and we made it home in time to have my mom and step-dad over for lunch and some (happy) pictures in those adorable Easter duds.
On Sunday morning while we were playing I asked Ben what Easter was. He said that it's when Jesus died then became a zombie.
He is risen, indeed!
3 comments:
Where's a pic of Grandpa Mike at Easter service with your family?
I love the pic of Emma sticking her tongue out at her cranky brother! I probably did that a million times myself...years ago.
Love you BIG, my beautiful niece!
oxoxo...Auntie Sue
I know it's sounds impossible, but those two kids just get cuter, and cuter, and cuter each and every day! I love how they play off each other. I think my fav pic in this bunch is where Emma's looking at Ben saying, "What's wrong with you? It's a happy day .. isn't it??" Also, you all are the cutest family I have EVER seen! Except maybe your Mama's . . Love . . !
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