Monday, March 2, 2015

The Fine Art of Leaving

If you have ever tried to leave somewhere quickly with three or more small children, you know that it is impossible to do. The fastest we as a family have ever been able to leave somewhere is approximately 34 minutes. The longest it's taken is about 17 days. Or at least that's what it feels like to me, the Dad, who, if by myself, can go from sound asleep to out the door in 2.6 seconds, if need be. Thankfully that need has never arisen, but if it does, I know I can do it. I might have my pants over my head and my shirt on my feet, but at least I will be out the door.
I googled "leaving the house", and this was the first cartoon that popped up. I think I chose it because on several occasions, while trying to leave our house in a timely fashion, I have stepped on the kids' Smurf figurines. I hate those little blue buggers.

Most weekday mornings the five of us go at least four different directions, at different times, so the chaos of trying to leave is somewhat staggered. Actually it seems like the five of us are oftentimes going about 25 different directions, but some know-it-all physicist assured me that that is physically impossible. My question to him was "Who asked you, any way?" He gave me some witty physicist retort that I thankfully didn't understand. Physicists who stick their noses in to my business are the worst!

Sunday mornings are far more hectic than weekdays for our family. Our goal is for all of us to leave at a certain time, 9:30 AM to be precise, and head off to church, with stops at the local coffee shop and to pick up our friend, Al, on the way. 9:30 is actually quite a bit later than we ever leave during the week, yet for some reason it seems to sneak up on us faster than other days.

In order to get everyone ready to leave on a given Sunday morning, the Wife and I need to start yelling commands at the kids pretty much the instant we wake up:

"Time to eat!"
"Time to get dressed!"
"It's NOT time to play!"
"I said go get dressed!"
"Put down that Barbie!"
"Would you please get dressed?!?!"
"Now put on your socks and shoes!"
"No, not those shoes!"
"Take that underwear off your head!" (they are my kids, after all...)
And so on and so on...

Really, it's amazing we can get to church before the closing hymn, but somehow we always get there at least close to on time. It might be God working a very small weekly miracle in our lives, maybe because He knows how much we all need to get to church and repent our sins... Wearing underwear on your head isn't actually a sin though, is it?

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