Monday, September 13, 2010

Get me to the church on time

Well, the church or anywhere else for that matter. Since I had Beautiful Girl, it is impossible for me to be anywhere on time. I used to be chronically early and being on time was almost as bad as being late. Not for anyone else, mind you, I was always the one waiting for them. It was a character flaw instilled by my father who is never late. I was even on time for my wedding. Yes, about a third of our guests (the ones who don't know me so well) arrived after I did. The car pulled up in front of the church at bang on 2pm, and I was walking up the aisle at 2.02pm. The General wasn't surprised.

So, now that I have Beautiful Girl to manage too, I find it impossible to be on time any more. She always needs a feed, a nappy change or a costume change just as we're walking out the door. Last night she decided to mix things up a bit, and I got the costume change, right after she projectile vomitted all over the only nice outfit I can fit into. So the General and I went out for dinner (our first proper date since she was born) and I was in a, thankfully new, cardi and jeans.

I find Sunday mornings the hardest. I go to church most Sundays. The congregation I attend is pretty small so the number of services per week is limited to one – 11am Sunday morning. It's a pretty reasonable time and day for religious worship, but because it's the only option, it's important for me to try to leave the house on time. Since three months ago, it doesn't happen. Beautiful Girl always manages to wake up just as I'm about to leave and wants to be fed, watered and changed. It doesn't matter what time she goes to be the night before, or how many times she wakes during the night, on Sunday mornings, she wakes at 10.30, just as I need to walk out the door. We then have a lovely 20 minutes of smiles and giggles while we're changing her nappy and getting her into her Sunday best. She always seems to want a chat while she's feeding too, which makes a usually quick and easy process entertaining but drawn out.

I may have to get over my fear of waking a sleeping baby one of these days. Either that or go back to being a Catholic and a choice of services over two whole days...

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