I may someday create a blog entitled What My Children Wear. It would be nothing but a daily rundown of the things my children wear--or don't wear, as the case may be--and today's entry would certainly not be a disappointing post. Dressing in general is a difficult task here at the Konchars. Apply that to "dressing for church" and you have no idea. Because this is church we all have to be up and out--at the same time--dressed in a presentable fashion and with a certain level of hygiene and grooming achieved. Last year we had the 9:00 schedule and it was tough. This year we have moved to the 8:30 schedule REVERSED and so folks, we are talking about an even higher degree of difficulty. Four of my five children are old enough to get themselves dressed--although I guess that really depends on your definition of "dressed". Tommy being three needs our help, if only to keep him from choosing something disgusting from the dirty clothes bin.
This morning Calvin, Josie and Jon were all dressed on time, had their hair done and were on to the last crucial task of finding a coat and church shoes. Great emphasis was put on the words church shoes because in the past we have shown up at church--with our nice skirt and our ties and whatnot--only to climb out of the back of the Suburban wearing last year's revolting snow boots, or filthy flip flops or barefoot. (Josie attended church barefoot no less than 3 times in 2008.) Today being 20 degrees with snow on the ground no one went barefoot, but Jon did cause quite a kerfuffle with the church shoes he picked out:
Look closely. Those would be two right feet, one a size 1 and the other a size 3. I watched him climb out of the car and stand there waiting for us to all walk in together. I immediately saw the problem but said nothing, watching the wheels turn in his head as he looked down at his shoes, moved his feet around inside of them and wondered what was amiss. It was kind of funny, but it definitely would have been funnier if had been someone else's kid.
Today Sid could not find his church pants. They are the slacks that match a suit coat he insisted we purchase but he never wears. The church pants are dry clean only, so naturally they spend a lot of time wadded up on the floor of his closet or on the floor of the laundry room. This morning we couldn't find them anywhere (no matter how much I shouted) and so he had to go with his white shirt and tie and black dress shoes and a pair of jeans. He was appropriately embarrassed. Who knows, maybe this is the consequence he needed to finally make the connection between cause and effect as they relate to his life. My guess is no.
Before Josie climbed into the abyss which is the back of our car, she put on her scroungie old converse instead of her adorable brown librarian stacked heel Mary Jane's, which she finds intolerable. Luckily I noticed the Mary Jane's on my way out of the house and I was able to cause her much shoe angst in the moments before we got to church. Because if there is anything helpful to a spirit of peace and holy reflection as we travel, it is getting Josie as mad as a sack of weasels and then strapping her down for the 10 minute ride to church.
While Calvin was dressed in a perfectly acceptable fashion today, he can on occasion give me a little heart pain by wearing white tube socks with his black pants and shoes, or cinching his pants up with a tiny belt sized for Tommy, resulting in a look that channels Oliver Twist in clown pants. So I guess Calvin isn't really in the running for my most embarrassing sartorial moment at church. Neither are Sid and Tommy, although they do their best. And would you believe, not even Josie can top Jon's award winning Sunday sometime in the spring of '08:
Jon was having a hard time getting ready for church. He had his church pants and his sweater (that tan turtle neck that makes him look like he should summer with the Kennedy's) but he just couldn't find a belt. Oh yeah, and those weren't HIS pants, but Calvin's, so the belt was kind of important. (He managed to kept the pants from falling down by walking around with his hands in his pockets.) So. He's wearing huge pants and sitting next to me on the bench in Sac. Meeting and then he leans forward to pick up a crayon he dropped and--Holy Naked Butts, Batman!--Jon is going commando. Yeeeees, that was at that precise moment when I said to myself "Julie, you are fooling no one".
