Ok I'll start. Mine started with my parents yelling at me and my siblings to wake up shower and get ready. Then my mother would be walking around looking for this and that. Myou dad would get ready and then go sit on the kitchen reading his scriptures or doing some church stuff while my mother would be running around getting all the kids ready hahaha. So how was your home?

Sounds normal to me and I'm not even Mormon.

FYI I'm also familiar with totally secular accounts of Sunday morning which are often quite dismal as well.

On the other hand for Sunday morning many secular families have warm and relaxing moments as do Christians and many Mormons. It all sounds normal to me.

So what's your point?

I think the OP was just asking for input on what this group experienced, and THEN would form an opinion. If everyone had a hectic morning, or if some did and some didn't, or only a few - that's what he/she wanted to find out.

I am not the OP. And I am certainly not perfect. But something caught my eye.

"So what's your point?", are pretty aggressive words. It's an escalation to animosity, not necessary in most circumstances.

If you ask a question and someone responds with "So what's your point?" it is not the same thing as saying "I don't understand the question," or "I'm not sure what you are asking."

It's more like, "What is wrong with you for bringing that up?" Or, "What's your problem?" Or "You're an idiot, did you know that?"

Perhaps not intended that way, but that is what it reads like when written and sounds like when spoken.

Get up, have breakfast and head for PM (Dad and later us boys). Being farmers and cattlemen, feeding the cattle came first and if our hired man got the weekend off, we'd skip church and my brother and I would help Dad. The cattle always took precedence.

RB



Edited 1 time(s). Last edit at 12/14/2015 10:33PM by Lethbridge Reprobate.

Absolute chaos.

We were (and are) a calm and loving family. The worst came out in us as we scrambled to get six kids ready, get stuff gathered for lessons and meetings, and strived to get there on time.

Hell on earth, at least that's what my mom told me more than once.

Wasn't that a clue, mom?

Hell hath no fury like a Mormon mother who is ill-prepared for a primary lesson scheduled at 9:00am, 5-kids to dress to the hilt, an unmotivated husband, and a messy house. At 8:45am, if not ready, my normally angelic mother meta morphed into an apocalyptic demon from outer darkness. As we walked into the church, she transformed before our eyes back into a state of normalcy.

ummmm...am I your mom???

;o)

It wouldn't be Sunday morning if my church-going but jackmo husband didn't wind up screaming and cussing at everybody. Sigh. "Good times."

;o)

Chaotic! One Sunday, my daughter and I faked being sick and after hubby and other two children left for church, daughter and I ran through the house singing ♪♫ we're staying home, we're staying home♪♫. That was a good Sunday.

Getting my family ready and having lessons ready was always hectic. We were always running in right at 9, or at least during announcements. That drove my always-early-for-everything-else DH crazy. He learned to keep it to himself, though, since I was already stressing!

When we dropped TSCC, we still attempted to attend a traditional church that met at 8:30 am. Remarkably, the mornings were peaceful. We were early! We discovered the biggest difference was that we actually wanted to go to church. I don't think I had ever realized before how much I didn't want to go to the LDS church meetings.

Eventually, we began dragging our feet to this church, too. We realized that we weren't getting anything out of attending. Now our mornings are relaxing. If we have somewhere to go, it's no problem getting ready. We love our Sundays.

Six kids. In order of ages 2 girls, boy (me), two girls, boy.

ONE BATHROOM!!!

There where tears, screams, fights, and constant yelling by my mother. It was absolutely chaos most mornings.

Nobody has ever liked going to church. Unhappy people with things they need to get done. All being led by a control freak that wants the church to influence their family to keep out of trouble and establish and maintain a social network. As an ancilliary but minor consideration, a little cognitive dissonant insurance against possible death.

Growing up I didn't realize anything was out of place more than the usual.

We went to church as a family whether we liked it or not. I recall times I faked being sick to stay home and watch my favorite Sunday programming.

With my own children we went most of the time. I was Sacrament chorister for five years, so my attendance was compulsory. I didn't mind up until my leaving. By then I was more than ready to give the heave ho, based on the ongoing crappola by certain Mormns to other Mormons. I was basically persecuted for being a single mother, chastized and ostracized for not being a stay at home mom so I could be a busy body like certain other women had their life callings in being complete and utter boors and hypocrites of the highest order.

My visiting teacher asked me like another of my good friends from that period of my life why I didn't leave sooner? They would've based on all the trouble some of the holy rollers had caused me.

I believed in the "gospel" up to then. That was the first major crack in my "shelf."

It was learning about the history of the church that came after.

That just added armor to my cause.

I got such a good feeling when I read the title of the post. Surprised me.

I remember ironing boards being out, toast being made, and my little brother really not wanting to go, but I did. Nice old pioneer town ward. Dad was already gone because he was Bishop always. Always. Mom was getting the roast in the oven to cook while we were at church. Us kids would peel potatoes or shovel the walk. This was before the three hour block.

Walking up the country lane to the church and seeing everyone from the small town. Irene always brought a big bouquet of flowers from her garden except in winter. She even won the flower arranging at the State Fair one year.

I loved it when I was very young. Didn't have a reason not to. Besides. I was sure God would "fix me" one day.

I remember Sunday pot roasts for dinner.

Loved those Sunday dinners - they were some of the best of my childhood recollection.

Mom and dad were both good cooks. Whether it was roast or homemade breads and jams, dad's veggies from the garden, or fresh strawberries... they were all indescribably delishus.

amyjo Wrote:
-------------------------------------------------------
> I remember Sunday pot roasts for dinner.
>
> Loved those Sunday dinners - they were some of the
> best of my childhood recollection.
>
> Mom and dad were both good cooks. Whether it was
> roast or homemade breads and jams, dad's veggies
> from the garden, or fresh strawberries... they
> were all indescribably delishus.


Amen to everything you said.

Simple. I'd sit in the car and helpfully honk the horn until DW finally got kids ready and brought them out.

*snort*

Funny but, sadly, so true.

;o)

because I'm a serene and organized person.
Despite the fact that I had many children, we were always dressed and out the door in a happy and organized fashion.
(I'm not joking or being snarky.)

It was only on Stake Conference days or days when husband was home for some reason (and not at early church meetings) that we ever had any strife or contention.

A) Early church: wake up too early for a Sunday, get ready, eat a quick breakfast, church, then home for lunch, and then a long nap to recover. By the time you wake up, have dinner, then Sunday is over.

B) Late morning: get up, read the paper, leisurely get ready, then starve through church because it's lunch time, come home, eat, nap, and day is over

C) Late church: lounge around all morning until lunch, then get ready and go. Come home for dinner, and if it's winter, get home after dark. Eat dinner and get ready for Monday.

The 3-hour block takes about 6 hours between getting dressed, travel and just socializing. That's almost as long as your work day. This, of course, excludes leadership meetings, lesson prep, choir practice, evening firesides, home teaching, collecting fast offerings, etc. all of which can add another 2-3 hours to your day.

My mother was Cathlic so she took my brother and me with her to early morning Mass. It lasted around 45 minutes, and there was always another group coming in for the next Mass. My dad stayed home and read the Sunday paper.

After church we stopped at the bakery to buy fruit kuchen to take home. I really loved kuchen, the best part of Sundays for me.

Believe it, or not, at one time it was standard officially directed policy for MORmON members to go to church meetings at two different times on Sunday, which created two trips to meetings on Sunday.

In the morning hours there was priestDUD(e) meeting, then followed by Sunday School. Relief Society was held at some other time, not on Sunday, like Saturday, or Wednesday, IF I recall correctly. In the evening on Sunday would be sackermint meeting. Primary and RS were important but NOT important enough to be on Sunday like priestDUD meeting was.


That meant that fathers would be off at PriestDUD meeting while mom's were still at home trying to get the kids and themselves ready for Sunday School. There was some time gap, at least in the ward that I was going to, between the end of PriestDUD meeting and the start of Sunday school, so the males could go home and help bring their families to meeting IF they chose to. Some men went back home to help bring in their families. That meant three trips into town for meetings, for the priestDUD age men, IF any one was counting. Some of the ward members lived "in town" but most lived out side of town in the country like I did.
That meant that my MORmON male parent would get up early to haul ass into town for priestDUD meeting, then haul ass back to the house to help bring the wife and kids into Sunday School. Then we would go home, where we expected to do as little as possible, except for the normal chores of caring for livestock that is.

Right in the middle of the evening was Sackermint meeting.
It started at 8 PM. A big deal for the dairy farming families was whether they pushed their evening milking time back or ahead to get it out of the way to be able to attend Sackermint meeting. The fact that such people regularly coped with this huge weekly imposition is amazing to me. Having to milk cows sucks as far as I am concerned, having to deal with that chore AND going to church simply is NOT worth the bother. It's amazing to me that any of the dairy farmers attended church meetings, but as faithFOOL MORmON members, many did.

Bonanza came on at 7 PM, It ran for an hour, which took its ending right up to the time when Sackermint meeting was supposed to start. This was a huge hindrance to our family's being able to make it to Sackermint meeting on time. It was not just us kids that were taken in by Bonanza, it grabbed my MORmON parents attention in a big way. That should have been a big sign to them about just how boring that their MORmON Lives really were. Given how extremist and devout that they really were in so many other ways, I am surprised that the TV was not discarded over this very issue. God knows that many of my mom's super staunch TBM siblings and her super backwards super MORmON parents were getting by with OUT the worldly intrusion of Television into their sacred MORmON abodes.

Bonanza actually ended a few minutes before 8 PM to make time for running TV commercials at the top of the hour. Those few commercial minutes made up very precious time when the family automobile could be pressed into a 70 or 75 mph (BUT NOT 80 mph, because a person has to maintain their sense of propriety in these matters.) blasts down country roads with a posted Speed limit of 50 or 55. That done to reduce the amount of time that it took to make the trip to town by as much as an entire minute and in turn to to minimize how late that we were going to be walking into Sackermint meeting. It was very well understood that we needed to be headed out the door at the very instant that the closing theme music for Bonanza started to play. Our car would be roaring down the country highway into town. Our feet would hit the pavement of the church parking lot with in two seconds of the engine of our family sedan being silenced.
A move made easier by the fact that there were no seat belts to slow us down in our exit from the car. If everything worked out right, we could walk into the ward chapel and be seated while the opening song song was still grinding along, before the opening prayer was given. It was our family's MORmON version of being on time. We were not the only ones. It would have made so much more sense to start the meeting at 8:10 but that would have been a de facto admission that Bonanza was more important than THE gospel.

Speaking of making more sense, It would have made so much more sense for my parents to point their car in the opposite direction as that of the way to the stupid damned MORmON ward house, for a drive that was half as long, to go visit my MORmON convert male parent's NON MEMBER parents at their house to spend the evening with our NON MEMBER grandparents. My NON MEMBER grandmother would have been THRILLED to have us. My grandparents had a color TV by then too, so we could have enjoyed Bonanza in NBC's "living color" at their place.

As things were, we went to the super stupid MORmON sacrament/sackermint meetings instead. WHAT A WASTE OF TIME!
Its not the fact that spending Sunday evening with my NON member granparents was rarity, its that fact that it NEVER happened at all. The ONE TIME was when Christmas eve fell on Sunday evening and my parents were invited, My MORmONS parents made sure that they endlessly bitched and whined and moaned about the situation , and that every one knew what huge imposition that it was to intrude on Sunday evening and their MORmON church meeting attendance, and they made sure that my grandparents knew that our coming over would be late, as in AFTER we had attended our MORmON sackermint Meeting. just one more example of how MORmONISM builds (DESTROYS) families. Thank a MORmON god that we spent all that time in those stupid god damn MORmON sackermint Meetings being warmed up for molestation and death threats later on in the MORmON Hell House temple. Thank a MORmON god that we did not spend that time with my NON MEMBER grandparents!
Thanks again, MORmON church!!!!

A memorial line from smirkorama's well-written, entertaining expose of a typical Sunday at her house, "Thank a MORmON god that we spent all that time in those stupid god damn MORmON sacermint Meetings being warmed up for molestation and death threats later on in the MORmON Hell House temple."

No rush to church by my family growing up, but did make an attempt at this with three very small children while their daddy was off to his priestdude meeting (smart Daddy). Didn't take me long to fake being sick even when this was not a legitimate excuse, what with three little ones passing the cold virus in a never-ending-circle.

Hey, maybe I would have had a reason to not take the excuse-route if when you got to the church you did not hear children fussing and crying and wanting out as soon as you entered the doors. (I do think there were some teens and adults' cries adding to the noise). And, this was all back when we were not on the 3-Hour Death Block. How, holy hell, does anyone in their right mind with toddlers stand this torture???? I humbly admit that if I had been made to do this week after week they would have had to lock me up for committing an unmentionable crime to somebody or other.

omg...sunday mornings.. it always went like this.. My mom would come in to each of our rooms and tell us what time it was and that we needed to get up.. she went to her room and my parents were busy getting ready.. Us kids never bothered to get out of bed. So of course, my parents would be ready and then come into our rooms and see us still in bed and my mother would lose her shit.. like Banshee GET OUT OF BED!!!!!! usually we said no, and then she'd threaten us with being grounded which made us finally get up. throw some clothes on and go. but we were always late. I hated church, I hated everything about it. The people, the wasted time, and the fakeness of the entire experience. so usually I would try to get kicked out of class by making teacher cry or say something horribly vulgar and disgusting "in the lords house" which totally mortified and embarrassed my poor mother and also usually caused me to get grounded anyway.. so.. long story short.. sunday mornings sucked, and looking back, I should have just stayed in bed let them leave me at home and took the grounding.. it would have been a win win for me and my mother...she or I just never realized it at the time.

PTSD.

(Sweet whisper) Levi, get up.....

Few minutes

(Whisper) Sweetheart, it's time to get up.

Few minutes

(Normal voice) You need to get up and get ready, we've gotta go.

Few minutes

(Tasmanian Devil) "GET UP!" As she in one fell swoop whipped all my covers off me.

I detested everything about church, even after my mom was dead, but I went because, well, you just DID.

The week I found out it was all fake, I let out the sigh that was heard around the world.

Any one ever sing this in your head. Saturday is a dreadful day it's the day to get ready for Sunday. We worsh I clothes and shampoo our hair, so that we can be ready for Sunday.

chaotic

Lol, wine country girl, Love your response!

Dad would be gone because he was in bishopric. Stepmother would yell at me to get up and stop being so effing lazy and get my baby brother ready because she "never had time to herself". She would then spend two hours on her makeup and hair and clothes while I got younger brothers fed and dressed and ready to go. Then she would scream at us the whole way to church for some random reason she made up. If I was lucky I'd get smacked around a little before we left. Soon as we got to church she was all smiles and full of the spirit.

Every Sunday it was like this.

Dad would be gone. Mother would wake up late because she'd been up half the night with a crying baby. The morning chaos would begin with her yelling orders for everyone to get up and get ready for church.

We'd trash the kitchen trying to put a cold cereal breakfast together while she nursed the baby and got her primary lessons ready.

Then the real fun began. Three boys, Three girls, one bathroom, one iron. The fighting and screaming got out of control. I despised Sunday morning. I was the only one that had the good sense to take a shower on Saturday night and iron my clothes. I would iron my brothers suit pants on Sunday morning for $1 a pair. I made $2 every Sunday. I refused to iron shirts for any price.

My father would show up in the driveway expecting everyone to be ready to go. I don't know why, we were never ready. He would sit in the car and honk the horn at my mother. She would come completely apart, the kids were half dressed, stressed out, and never wanted to go to church. The fights would move out to the car where dad as. Off to church we would go. The minute we hit those 10ft doors to the chapel, smiles were on, and we were smiling and silent. If you didn't stay that way, you'd be out on the chapel steps getting a whipping.

Going to church was a nightmare. When I married, I told my husband if he EVER sat out in the driveway and honking the horn while I was getting kids ready, It would be instant divorce. I couldn't stand that whole thing.

it's the very worst day in our household. The wife runs around screaming at the kids for not getting ready fast enough, and it's usually when she lays into me for being a bad influence because I'm not active and I don't attend or pretend. She claims that going to church is necessary for the kids well being and happiness, but it's the saddest, most stressful day for everyone. She usually threatens them w/in an inch of their lives if they aren't getting ready fast enough for mom. Otherwise things are great, it's just sunday's that suck!

As a kid I actually woke up pretty early... but I'd always stay totally motionless in my bed. I'd do anything I could possibly think of to not make any sound, hoping against hope that my parents would sleep through their alarms so we could skip church.

Then I'd inevitably hear them getting up and resign myself to wasting another 3 hours of my life. SO GLAD those days are over with now.

Dad wasn't around, off with a mistress or just didn't want to be with the family. Mom would try to sing "Love at Home" while us kids fought with each other. I do have a few good memories from a few years earlier than that, but very few.