Kicking and Screaming and Nearer My God to Thee

We didn't have many traditions in our family when I was a kid. There was nothing particularly unique about our holiday celebrations. We didn't have a special way of celebrating birthdays. No stories were told around the campfire (probably because we didn't go camping). My parents didn't sweat it when I chose to skip college and grad school graduation ceremonies, or when I decided to write my own wedding vows, or when I opted to keep my family name instead of taking Rob's. I guess I'm just not a traditional kind of girl.

There is, however, one Shimer tradition that has carried over to my family:

The Sunday pre-church meltdown. 

When I was a kid, there was something about trying to get all four of us to church that resulted in rather unChristian-like behavior. Our church was about a half-hour away and my parents were big into punctuality. This meant we were always rushing around at the last minute, becoming stressed out and irritable in the process. By the time we got in the car no one was speaking. If we were lucky, our iciness toward each other slowly thawed during Sunday school and the church service. It was an experience you knew would repeat itself each and every Sunday. The result was that going to church was preferable only to going to the dentist.

The church that Rob, the kids, and I attend is about eight minutes away and I'm the only one who cares about punctuality. The three of them are always taking their good old time and I become stressed out and irritable waiting for them. We've I've been known to spiral downward into yelling, threatening, demanding, and bribing, while Rob prefers quietly seething or being the funny guy to break the tension. As for the kids, they react with whining, pleading, pouting, and sulking. By the time we get in the car, no one is speaking and you know the experience will repeat itself next Sunday. You see the similarities here?

Well, in an effort to break with the Sunday pre-church meltdown tradition, I have made the unquestionably most likely wrong decision to no longer beg bribe cajole require my children to go to Sunday school or church. Despite being an elder and a former Sunday school teacher, and although I know it looks bad to others, I just can't handle the fight that's involved. It's not so much a case of "picking my battles," as it is about the state of mind I find myself in after the battle. As you know or can probably guess, I'm an open book with my emotions and I don't need to bring that scary face to church.

This past Sunday was a case-in-point. Abby decided at the very last minute (I literally was already in the car) that she would come to church with us. She was wearing the clothes she slept in and I've seen rat's nests that looked better than her hair. My anger (which we already know is at maximum capacity these days) did not subside through the entire service. I was so frustrated with her I told her she shouldn't go up for communion looking the way she did. I know, I know. God would not approve of my behavior. He was perfectly happy seeing Abby in church regardless of how she looked.

I am really at a loss as to how to get my children to church, a place I love dearly, without going through the Sunday morning ordeal. I'm already preparing myself for next year when Ian has confirmation class. I've told him he's going whether he likes it or not, but that will in no way keep him from giving me grief about it each and every Sunday. I realize I can deny my children the things they most enjoy unless they accompany me, but that seems like a great way to ensure that they despise the mere thought of church.

I can't be the first church-going mom to deal with this, so I'm open to eager for desperately seeking your advice. What's worked for you?