There’s definitely an art to Sunday afternoon parenting.

It’s a peculiar block of time in our week — we’ve survived the insanity of school and work schedules; weathered whatever nuttiness Saturday threw our way, be that events packed back to back or sibling squabbles at home; and then enjoyed a full morning of Sunday School, church service, and our family lunch out together.

Bluntly put, by two o’clock Sunday afternoon, we’re pretty much worn out.  Or at least BrightSide and I are.

The kids, on the other hand, are raring to go and can’t understand why we don’t want to throw a football/take the dogs for a walk/ride the go-cart/play a game with them.  I have a hard time understanding how they can’t see my eyes closing even as they speak to me, but whatever…

So Sunday afternoon inevitably finds BrightSide and I honing our horizontal parenting skills.  (And no, that’s not nearly as fun as it sounds.)

We’re both completely wiped out, in desperate need of naps and, despite all empirical evidence to the contrary, remain convinced that this is a possibility on Sunday afternoons.  We’ve tried various arrangements — both of us on the couch, both of us in bed, one on the couch while the other one’s in bed — with about the same level of success.

On average we’re looking at about a 98% failure rate on peaceful nappage.  (Yes, I just made that word up, but you know it makes sense.)  Seriously, it’s ridiculously rare that even one of us achieves tranquil rest during a block of time that seems ideal for closing eyes and recharging batteries.

So what’s going on?  Well, in our house, Sunday afternoons look a lot like this:

Everyone changes out of their church clothes and makes plans for the day.  We explain once again that no, mommy and daddy are tired and can’t (fill in a random activity here) right now, but maybe we can do something later.

T-man and Bear tell us where they can be found for (roughly) the next two hours — in the cul-de-sac, riding the go-cart, at so-and-so’s house, shooting baskets, etc.  (You might think this would insinuate that they’ll be gone for the next two hours.  You would be mistaken.)

BrightSide and I collapse somewhere, desperately hoping for a little peace and quiet.  Being the responsible one, I usually set an alarm so I don’t sleep the day away.  I have an irrational fear that I might lie down and simply sleep for the next six hours, even though it hasn’t happened yet and I’m pretty sure it’s logistically impossible.  But I digress.

It’s usually when we’re almost (but not quite fully) asleep that the first child slams their way into and back out of the house.  (Why is it impossible to simply close the garage door?  I can’t quite grasp why the damn thing has to be SLAMMED.)

Cue annoyed muttering about loud kids followed by attempt to return to sleep quickly.

The door slamming will be repeated at least five times over the next two hours.  If we’re lucky, they’re simply coming and going to get water/change shoes/get their iPods/Lord only knows what else.  If we’re less than lucky (and we average at least one incident per Sunday), it’s someone coming to tattle/cry over an injury/argue about toys & sharing/ask permission for some random thing that, quite honestly, we don’t give a crap about because for the love of God we just want to sleep.

Somewhere around the third time that door slams I start to feel sympathy for those parents who lock their kids out of the house.

The dogs play their part in disturbing the peace as well.  If we keep them in the house they jump at every little noise, running each time a door opens, and attacking the front door if a neighbor’s child dares to knock on it.  Putting them outside doesn’t help — then we have to listen to them bark maniacally at kids playing nearby, a neighbor running or walking their dog, or…well, damn, I don’t know, the fact that the sky is blue.

Let’s say by some miracle we actually do manage to fall asleep (thank you, Jesus)…this will practically guarantee one of the kids will poke us awake to ask for something.  And this won’t be a one-time thing.  T-man will poke to ask if he can drive the go-cart to his friend’s house and you’ll go back to sleep, only to have Bear poke you to ask if she can have an Icee pop.  Someone usually asks to bring a friend inside to play in the bonus room, and one (or both) always asks for more play time. I’ve got a psychological limit on this back-and-forth; after the third time a kid pokes me I’m pretty much ruined for napping.  Let’s just say it’s not a great thing to be the third kid making a request.

So if you’re looking to reach us on a Sunday afternoon you’ve got a pretty good idea where we’ll be. Somewhere in our house, sleep deprived and wondering what we can bribe the kids with to buy some peace and quiet.