The title of this post could be “A Typical Sunday”, or “Why I Currently Hate Sundays”

Here are my random venting thoughts on this “Holy” day of the week.

--The day starts out trying to gets kids clean, dressed, fed and maintain the cleanliness level of their Sunday clothes during meals as well as the keep the house clean, (without doing too much “ unrighteous cleaning”, um, yeah, right)

--After dragging kids to church, two hours are spent wandering the halls chasing my over-active one-year-old as he explores every inch of the church.

--An hour in relief Society with no kids should be bliss, but pure exhaustion hits me from the previous several hours, and it’s a struggle to maintain consciousness no matter how awesome the lesson is.

--Rush home from Church and get everyone snacks, changed, bottle-fed and put down for naps.

--Race around cleaning so that “Sunday Dinner” can be made.

--A good hour is devoted to making a healthy fantastic meal my kids can sit around the table and remember fondly for years to come.

--Dinner time approaches, and there is no fond memories to be made. Instead it’s a fiasco of trying to get everyone dished up, encouraging kids to eat the meal that I’ve spent over an hour making, and enduring their criticism of how much they “hate” what I just made. Trying to get the baby fed, and watching my plate of delicious food sit there as I work out temper tantrums, encourage vegetables to disappear, and keep my little boy from walking through my food as he climbs on the table.

--I don’t remember the last time I ate a hot meal on a Sunday

--A good hour of cleanup then follows as I scrub every pan that I dirtied in order to create my “hated” masterpiece.

--At least the kids do take their dishes to the counter.

--After cleanup it’s time to give the well-planned, adorable, home-made, Family Home Evening lesson that I’ve spent the week preparing… (uh huh, or grab a picture from the F.H.E. picture packet and quickly talk about it)

--Try to read scriptures as my hair is pulled, kids complain, and the baby tries to rip the page out of my scriptures.

--Try to talk about what we just read and realize I don’t know because of the commotion around me.

--Realizing no one cares.

--Off to the bath where I try to get everyone sweet-smelling and clean.

--Wrestling to get P.J.’s on.

--The begging, the pleading and the “gnashing of teeth” to get teeth brushed.

--Trying to tell stories, and put the kids to bed without falling asleep myself.

--Finally falling asleep only to be awoken by a crying baby just as I’m falling asleep. Of course.

And then Sunday is over. Needless to say being a mother is a lot of work, no matter what your situation. But Sundays are starting to wear me down. Thank heavens the Lord only set aside one “day of rest” a week. I couldn’t handle much more.