Palm Sunday

As I look forward to Easter Sunday, I need to note that we went to church last Sunday. All of us. We’d actually been pretty regular for a while (regular for us, that is). And then. Well. Saturday night tequila equals no church Sunday morning.

I was prepared with everything we could have possibly needed. I got up on time. I got everyone dressed. I made breakfast. We were ready to go. I had the big purse. No need for a diaper bag. Everything goes in the big purse. Money for the collection plate. A juice for the boy. A snack for the boy. The extra phone for the boy so that he can watch Elmo when he starts to squirm. My phone for the girls so they can play Checkers although they should be listening but we know they aren’t going to listen so instead of having them fidget or fight or non-whisper stop iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit, we shove electronics in their faces.

Preparation is key, you see. Without it, there is nothing. Without it, you gasp upon the realization as you sit down in church, all self satisfied because you friggin’ rock at this whole mother of three thing, that you haven’t packed one diaper. Not one wipe. And that boy is smiling as he makes the “I am so about to poop” face.

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