It’s such a privilege to father a small growing family.

Speaking of “growing”, a certain shopkeeper near home told me the other day to stop referring to my son as “last son” – she seemed to imply African families should have no numerical limits.

Whereas I smiled the comment away, I haven’t yet discussed the realities of this street side “revelation” with my wife – Rhionah.

Nevertheless, Rhionah recently took out time to describe our (typical) Sunday experience as we went to church last week. (So I will let you read the whole thing and maybe also gauge whether growing our numbers (or house drama) is the way to go.

(Number of Emojis used herein do not necessarily represent the rest of the Ssemakula Family 🙂 )

“Errybody” around here: (L-R) Rhi, Kyllian, Mercedes and Kara

By Rhionah Ssemakula
We finally made it to church after 7 months oba. 

When we were there last, we were a family of 4, today we were 5! Mukama yebazibwe nyo nyo.

But you guys, there is a hustle rarely talked about and yet it is a legit one! The Uphill task of getting one’s family ready for church on a Sunday morning multiplied if it’s more than 1 child!

I found myself scampering like a fox from about 8:00 am, trying to get the children ready and then myself and then their Dad, ok, & maybe only in some ways, it’s not like I shoved Eddie onto a stool and started brushing his hair frantically as I did Cede.

I did however have several requests, okay not several, just a million per second to him to which he responded in manly hysterics! ‘Honey, could you put the baby in the basin while I finish with this child’s hair?’ or, ‘Maybe order for the Bolt while I finish with my shower?’ 

At one point, I saw one of the adults in my household eating a slice of bread straight from the bread bag with a 2 year old strapped to his hip saying, ‘Eh, honey this is better than going to church hungry!’ The bedroom was the sacred location of this conversation by the way. 

Just a few minutes before this colorful encounter, I heard the same 2 year old screaming from somewhere in the house, ‘daddy payiii me!‘ (Read “Daddy carry me”) and heard Daddy responding, ‘Let me at least get a shower first!’

By the time we are all seated in the back of a Bolt taxi, our once fresh faces, visibly sweaty, we felt and looked like we had just won a significant battle!

We chatted about a boda guy’s intelligence who claimed how the price of a certain journey before COVID-19 to our home was 500 shs only. Then we arrive at the church lot and run in, only to see people coming at us in a drove in the opposite direction!

Yes Please, the service was done! Of course it was so good to see many of our church family in person and here about how they are.  But there was a time when I could wake up 30 mins to the service and be in time to help set up the chairs bantu mwe!

What are your tips mamas for Serene Sunday mornings? Is this a realistic expectation even? Also, when you see a Serene family on a Sunday morning, commend them, the behind the
scenes may have been bloody!