This was the first hour of my Sunday morning: children awake, the boys have fever, the little lady has removed her pajama pants and is searching for underwear. I crawl out of bed coughing, and flip on 15 minutes of the Bernstein Bears to buy myself 10 minutes to cook breakfast. The littles come to help me unload the dishwasher and little bit drops a glass glass on the floor shattering it into dozens of pieces across the tile. I shoo them out and proceed to move the pan off the burner while I try to collect miniscule glass. There’s no rush to get breakfast on since we can’t go to church with the boys’ contagious fevers. I get the eggs scrambled and the pancakes sliced and get them to the table just as the Bears complete their run. Once breakfast is on, I try to finish the dishwasher unloading that was halted because of the dropped glass. I immediately hear hysterical sobbing from the eldest because he’s spilled his milk all over the table and floor. I stop unloading to sop up the milk and console the little man who is now far too upset to finish his breakfast. I don’t demand it, he’s feeling puny, and just give him a big hug and quick scrub. I finish the dishes, remind myself to start the clothes since the same sweet boy threw up over his sheets last night and that stain stick won’t hold the stain from setting forever. I dole out the meds, little lady is still on antibiotics for a double ear infection, and the boys both need Tylenol. I start a cup of Keurig coffee to get me through the morning but all littles demand to be dressed, and to voice their opinions on their outfits though I know today is another one we’ll be trapped inside, so coffee is forgotten and children are dressed. I look at the clock, it’s not even 9 am. Sigh.
God demands rest on the Sabbath but I wonder if he was talking to moms? When Moses was laying out commands in Exodus, he said, “This is what the Lord has said: ‘Tomorrow is a Sabbath rest, a holy Sabbath to the Lord. Bake what you will bake today, and boil what you will boil; and lay up for yourselves all that remains, to be kept until morning.’” What did the moms do with their sick kids and inclement weather and stains setting? What did they do about breakfast and spilled milk and three-year olds? I may ask when I get to Heaven.
Until then, maybe I’ll just try to sneak in a nap when (if) the kids do.