Ever have a three shirt day? I had one Palm Sunday. Let's start by setting the stage and explaining that my church literally goes bananas on Palm Sunday. We pass out palm fronds and everybody waves them around all crazy like while we march around in circles around the outer aisles of the church. At one point poor CJ tucked his head into his hands and pushed his head against my chest like he was trying for all the world to get back inside where it was safe, quiet and warm. Part of me wanted my mommy too. You see, I love my church, I really do, but my oh my are we all a bit much sometimes. But we do put the Palm in Palm Sunday.
Anyway. I had coffee in hand one moment and then coffee on my shirt the next. Maybe it's a good idea to have the opening pointed at your mouth and not outward. My sweet husband promptly gave up his dress shirt and elected to wear his t-shirt the rest of the day. A few minutes later with the new shirt on and now communion in hand I took my husband's small vial of grape juice as he was scrambling to get CJ something. Between the two vials of juice, my coffee, and my square of communion bread I managed to splash one whole vial all down my shirt. It cascaded down like a glorious waterfall. My husband informed me I would not be getting his t-shirt. Then it was time to go and teach Sunday school.
Normally there are about four to seven kids and this day there were eleven. We had to get extra chairs brought in. I kept frantically counting them about every four minutes and with them moving around it was like trying to count the Gremlins in that scene where they're all popping around like soccer balls.
My sweet husband brought me another shirt, an extra he had for himself in the car. I thanked him and then went back to the sheer madness. As I put the new shirt on I explained to the kids that I had spilled my juice, twice, and they all gave me knowing smiles and nodded. "You're speaking our language, lady." OK. Maybe one of them didn't say that.
At one point one of the children was standing quietly alone and I thought, oh good, I can go have a nice serene moment. Then as I approached said child I realized the poor thing was in a puddle. With the serene moment screaming away we trudged together to get a change of clothes. Later as I handed the parent a grocery sack full of wet clothes and they apologized profusely I shrugged and said "hey, it happens." Had I not been pulled away by four other kids and three other sets of parents I might have also added, "and, your kid is two outfit changes behind me today."