I got dressed and put makeup on.
The baby was dressed cute.
Daniel looked spiffy as did Ryan.
Everyone behaved in church.
Two little older ladies that sat behind us made comments such as:
"God bless you", "What angels", "Now, that's a man's name (referring to Michael's name)", "What a nice looking family", "What well behaved children".
The priest even came up to us because guess what? we got their with time to spare!
If only they saw us on any other Sunday. It probably helped that we went to a later mass than normal and there weren't a hundred kids competing with noise levels. Oh it was just perfect, we were just a family in church that looked so put together and I was taking all the credit.
until...
we got home and I saw that Daniel had his shoes on the wrong feet. At least they matched.
I'm planning a walk by myself.
I have my pedicure stuff out.
I have my bleach trays and floss for my teeth all ready to go.
I have pumped milk in the fridge for daddy to take care of things.
Now, I have a screaming baby telling me it's milk time. Small steps.
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