bowties and tucked in sweaters.

i was laughing and thinking to myself today while i was in my car going to work at what sunday mornings used to consist of. you know. the kind that you thought baby Jesus had abandoned you in your time of need because your parent's made you wear that blue bowtie, the red suspenders, blue oxford short sleeve shirt, and osh kosh kahkis (made in taiwan) and then those little church shoes. 

i will say however that i did beg to wear those bowties and i even tucked in my sweater's and would wail like no one's business when fasha or madre would make me untuck the tucked. that's right, you heard me. i had to untuck the tucked sweater.

but not to get off topic to much, those times when you had to dress up to go to sunday school and eat those saltines (or in my case, rice cakes, cause i was allergic to every single solitary thing...even my bowties) and "take a nap" on those little pint sized muslim prayer rugs were nothing compared to drive to church.

everything is going swell that morning, your parents finally chase you down to comb your hair so you don't look like calvin (which by the way was mostly done in vain because by the time you would get to church that little...ginormous cow lick would make it's presence known like a woopie cushion in a library), they finally buckle you in the seat after spanking you for deliberately kicking your shoe across the yard to see if it would fly, and you are off to go talk about God. 

now the problems start. you walk your fingers across the seat to where your sister is sitting, singing/practicing her sunday school song for the old sunday school teacher. sister sees the fingers. purposely bumps her arm into your hand and yells at the top of her lungs, "HE HIT ME!!!!" now as you can see i was not in any way at fault but that's not what mom/dad bought. no. i was the problem child for that 30 minute drive to church. the happy little family is now playing tag with open fists which really just add to the madness. the father is using his periferals to drive and the rear view mirror as an aiming tool. mother is advising in a rather elivated voice to watch the road while fishing for sister's flailing arms. sister is flailing the arms claiming she's been attacked by an army of one. poor defenseless me is cowering in the seat with my bowtie and combover occaisonally swinging my arms in "defense" and trying to push myself as far back in the seat as i could so as not to be reached by father's arm of correction. and the two younger siblings are sitting in the backwards seat of the red station wagon taking bets and choosing sides. what a lovely picture of a typical family on sunday morning.

haha you know it's the truth. and then there's the, "don't make me pull over!" and yelling through clinched teeth (if that's possible) "we are going to go to church to learn about jesus!" and as soon as those front tires hit the asphalt of the parking lot we are that picture perfect family walking into church that you see on all the gospel tracks and christian literature.

it is sooo funny to look back and think about what the routine family does on a sunday morning when little children are involved. and only on sunday does the devil himself possess the child during the carride to put his finger on the sister's side of the car. only on sunday. 

thank God for giving me a sense of humor! and while some parents might be mortified for these things to be shared. deep down they know it's so true and they know how funny it is to sit back and remember all those things. and i know this didn't just happen with my family cause i spent the night at friends houses before and rode to church with them and the routine is the same. so after all that this is the point i'm trying to make. sisters just need to not be so petty about what part of the car is their side hahahaha! naw i'm just kidding...but really. 

hahahahaha i LOVE family bonding moments like those!

*there will be a break from 10 things for this posting.

p.s. love ya mar!