Last night, Princess had a friend over for several hours and the two of them somehow persuaded me to allow a sleepover.
Today, our church had a potluck in honor of the returning college students.
And, though this seems redundant, I think it plays in, so I'm adding it: it is Sunday. If you don't know that Satan and his minions work overtime on Sunday, you must not go to church with kids and a spouse.
Last night I made my brownies. This morning, I got up, got the coffee started, mixed up the casserole and loaded it in the crock-pot. I sat down and read my Bible. Some of my boys came down and chatted me up while I drank my coffee. I went upstairs and had a shower. Turned on the light for my younger children to waken somewhat naturally. Got dressed. Came down and found most of the kids eating. Ate breakfast. Had more coffee. Sent the kids up to get dressed. Fed the two stragglers who stumbled in in their jammies. Sent them up to change. Went up to do my hair. At which point Brent asked how I was doing.
It's Sunday morning. Potluck Sunday. And I have six children in the house. It's a freaking recipe for disaster. That's what it is. But I told him, "OK." And then I realized, it really was OK. No one was crying. We were all going to make it to church on time. Everyone would look presentable and the food would be done. And I thought, I can do this! This is totally do-able.
I think there may be hope for us yet.
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