I give the same speech every Saturday night. "We need to leave the house at xx time to get to church on time, or even a bit early". Heads nod, murmurs of agreement are heard. There are only 3 of us involved in this. Well, 2 really, but A. can swing things from one direction to the other very quickly. We have several modern conveniences that make getting ourselves ready much easier. I have this vision in my head of the ideal, calm, Sunday morning. It has never materialized.
Somewhere along the way, no matter our intentions, the wheels come off our plan. We've tried different approaches, from baths at night to laying out clothes and ironing the night before. Those things help, but it always seems we get down to the wire and I still have to wriggle myself into my spandex, throw my dress on and make a mad dash for the door. No matter what the clock says, you can't rush (or skip, gasp!) the spandex.
Instead of driving to church in a pleasant, peaceful, count your blessings way, I am white-knuckled gripping the door handle, gritting my teeth, taking shallow breaths because of the spandex, ready to jump out as soon as Scott slows to a safe speed. This is not the right frame of mind or spirit, I know.
Since spending the night at the church building isn't ideal, the only other option is to do something even more drastic. It is a 2-step plan:
Set my alarm earlier.
Get up when it goes off. Sigh.