Sunday

I hate Sunday.

I dread it all week long and not because it's the end of the weekend, no. In fact, I am a pretty big fan of Monday. It's my favorite day of the week.

I hate Sunday because it's church day.

I quit going to "our" church many years ago. I don't like it there. I like church allright, but just not this one. I left high school 23 years ago. I don't want to do it again on my weekend. My husband, though, goes every. single. week. You'd think that would be a good thing, but no. It's not.

I don't know what it is, but on Sundays my husband becomes very nasty and mean. He wakes up screaming and goes down screaming every. single. week. That is, if he even speaks to any of us at all that day. The days my husband hates his life are always on a Sunday. Right after services.

Now, I thought maybe he was being pissy because I wasn't going to church with him so I got dressed one Sunday and was happy to try it again and he told me in no uncertain terms that he didn't want me there. Another Sunday argument ensued and I haven't attempted that again. Once bitten, twice shy I think they say.

Isn't church supposed to make you more at peace? Godly? If anything, my husband comes home a demon. I wouldn't call his actions at all Christian. Why do you suppose that is?

This has been going on for yyyeeeaaarrrss. It does not change. Ever.

The only thing now, is that he drags the kids into it. He insists they go with him yet *I* am the one responsible for getting them ready. I know I should make him do it, and I have in the past, but trust me when I say he's even worse if I don't. So this morning I dress Elizabeth and he comes stomping out bitching because she doesn't have a bow in her hair. Elizabeth has no hair...remember? In fact, it's even worse because she gave herself a small trim at Christmas so what grew back is no longer there. A bow will not stay in her hair. Period. He knows this, but it's Sunday and he has to prove it. He barked at me to find a bow. I didn't budge. He stomped up to her room mumbling the whole time about how fucking lazy I am and came back with a ten dollar yellow bow that in no way matched the pinkness in which she was decked out. I removed it. He threw a fit worthy of the rottenest two year old and stomped out of the house screaming how she would NOT go to church with him with her ugly hair like that, no way, no how, and I am a complete dumb-ass and slammed the door.

Now. The thing with my husband is that you never, ever know when to believe him. Super Nanny would have a field day with him because he rarely follows through with a threat. I guess I should've realized that before I started taking her fancy clothes off, but damn, I was pissed. I just wanted that behind us. So about a minute later he comes crashing back in and sees me undressing the girl and the shit hit the fan. Mr. Christian threw some shit and slammed some doors and refused to take any of the kids with him. The boys just stood there not knowing what the hell happened. And now he's gone. I know he's in that church schmoozing with the other fake Christians pretending he's the most wonderful person. He's probably praising Jesus with his hands in the air and hugging the congregants with a hearty "God Bless You" and we'll be punished for that when it's all over this afternoon.

Why the hell does he do this?

The past month he has been pretty pleasant. When he was here. He spent a week in Vail and a week in Louisiana, but between those times we were happy. We had fun even. He actually seemed to enjoy being with us. I started sleeping without medication again. It was nice. Why did I not realize he was decent because he hadn't been to church in a solid month? Why is he NOT decent when he goes to church? What the damn bloody hell is that about?

I work at a church. I teach at a Christian preschool. I pray with my kids and teach them about Jesus and come home at peace about that most days. In fact, it has helped me become more tolerant and calm with my own kids. Most days. I mean, isn't that what church is SUPPOSED to do for you?

Why does my husband hate us every Sunday?

I hate Sunday.