So Easter started out just about like any day at our house. I’m woken up yet again by the sound of two boys yelling.
5:15 AM is staring at me from the alarm clock that I never set, because I never have to.
Hey, cool. That’s 6 minutes later than yesterday morning. I fall out of bed, resist the urge to lay face down on the floor and cry like a baby. Four members of this family already do that on a regular basis. We can’t afford another one at this point.
I grab Skye, who somehow ended up in our bed at some point last night, carry her downstairs and greet the twins, who apparently are up for all day.
Looking back, I should have said something to them like: “He is risen!” And I may have had to add the “indeed!” part myself. But still I should have said something ; I was just too tired.
Veggie Tales is soon playing in honor of Easter and Sunday in general, and I am starting a coffee IV drip in my neck and trying to deal with getting breakfast ready for my four little (fallen) angels.
Trying to get a drink and hang onto Skye at the same time, I dump an entire glass of water all over the floor and Skye, and she screams bloody murder. I clean up the floor and her. I think she’s fine.
Gotta get ready for church. Between traveling and potty training the boys we missed the last two Sundays.
Adorable dresses for the girls. Check.
Really cute shirts for the boys. Cute in a strong manly way. Check.
Asia: “Do I look lovely?”
Asia: “Look daddy, I’m dancing an Easter Polka. My arms are stretched out like a cross! “
“Do you like my dance?”
Daddy: “Yes, it’s great.”
Slater: incomprehensible wailing because his top collar button. (which was never meant to be buttoned) is not buttoned. I can’t even button it. Try to explain to a 3.5 year old it’s not necessary. Daddy’s top collar button is NEVER buttoned. No dice. IT MUST be buttoned. Mommy finally gets the top button on, but the damage is done. He is in cry/wail mode for the next 20 minutes.
At least that’s what I’m told. I wasn’t there because I had jumped on the motorcycle to go pick up the mission vehicle to take us to church, because we don’t have a vehicle. We either ride around town in public Rellas (sort of a motorcycle with a roof and seats behind the driver), use my motorcycle, (a bit tight for 6 people) or rent the mission vehicle.
When I get back, Slater is still screaming. Ok. It’s time to go to church. Apparently now he’s upset because he got bubbles in his Easter basket, and he wants to blow bubbles, not go to church at the moment.
Asia: “AAaahh!! You hit my head!!”
Daddy: “Sorry. (I thought she was just whining. I have no idea how but she now has a huge knot and a bruise on her forehead. Bad Daddy Award.)
Slater! Come on!” (Raised voice in a loving way)
Finally we’re all in. Only one screamer for now. We’ve had worse.
I drive. I can hear Brooke trying to hold all four down in the back seat. I remember how we used to hate car seats. We haven’t used one since we drove to the airport to head overseas 2.5 years ago. I would seriously love four of them to use as toddler straitjackets ( I mean safety harnesses) right now.
Asia: (singing) “We’re going to Church. To learn some new things.”
Asia: “We’re going to Church. To Learn some new things.”
Asia: “We’re going to Church. To learn some new things….(14x)”
Mommy: "Asia, let’s sing Jesus loves me."
Asia: "Ok. Jesus loves the little children….(and soon) Marsha marsha gamay nga sundalo…" (kid’s song in our local language)
Leif: (at the same time) "My God is so BIG!...So strong…"
Finally, we drive onto our barrio church road. It’s Easter. We’re the only people here. What the..???
Nobody. Gate locked. We still don’t know if there was a sunrise service we didn’t hear about, or church was cancelled (On Easter?!?)
But apparently we were the only people not to get the message.
Long, slow drive on the dirt road back towards home. I am fricking exhausted and we didn’t even attend church.
I seriously almost started tearing up at this point. Really, it was easier to go home than hang onto our four kiddos at church, but we had worked all morning to get ready for it, and now we were going home. Sometimes the stress of it all gets to you.
But it’s hard to drive on a muddy provincial road when you’re getting misty, and besides, missionaries are in perfect control at all times.
So I initiated a game of: “I spy with my eye something….blue!” for the rest of the way home with my little gang.
As soon as we got home, the bubbles came out.
Slater: (his top collar button still happily buttoned) “ Daddy this is fun…Daddy watch me.” (blows bubbles, none come out) “huh”? (Blows again, lots of bubbles) “Ta da!” Look! The bubbles are on the plants!" (cherubic smile)
And, that’s followed by Asia spilling half her bubble solution, crying for I don’t know how long, and finally blowing bubbles in between tears saying:
“I just can’t blow big bubbles anymore.”
“I can’t do it. I keep spilling it!” (Sob) (and on and on and on and on…)
We were all ready to sit down and enjoy Easter and try to forget about the morning and enjoy a taste of America, complete with cheese on top, and special sauce, when she pulled out the buns.
They were moldy.
And that is where this story ends. The day, frankly, did not get much better after that.
Happy Easter everybody!