... is because 1) that's how God intended it, 2) it doesn't conflict with football, and 3) because going to Saturday night mass/service is BRUTAL with toddlers!!
I hope everyone knows I'm joking about 1) and 2)!!!!
Tonight's story, kids, (I'm stealing a POV from How I Met Your Mother here) is all about how Saturday at 5pm isn't the best time to make your kids sit down (I was going to say still, but I don't think LJ has ever done that).
The quick backstory is that about six months ago, we started attending a new place of worship, and recently they began a 5pm service in addition to the more traditional Sunday services. We love the Sunday services because there is amazing organ music, friendly people, a low-key atmosphere, and (I'm sorry to admit that this appeals to me so much) both a nursery and a wonderful full meal following the service. We did have some friends, though, that were tied up on Sunday mornings elsewhere and wanted to check out the 5pm service, so we thought we'd go with them to see what it was all about. Parenthetically, I'm glad we did it to invest in relationship with them-- they're worth it!! (also parenthetically, I think that's the last thing I was glad about yesterday until we hit McDonald's at 6:30)
We arrived, slid into a back pew, and within five minutes, we noticed a terrible smell coming from near me. Turns out it was Elijah-- I was pretty sure I had put deodorant on that morning, but I'm always the nervous kind about not being able to shower anytime I leave the house. The Queen may make fun of my three showers a day policy, but hey! I always smell clean. Anyhow, I trotted back to the wonderful 'active children' soundproof room that our church has specifically for such occasions. The only issue? It's about 10' x 10', so once I changed the LJ's diaper, the room smelled like (ahem) diaper. So I brought him back to Rach and tried to settle into the service again. Two minutes later, child #2 fired off his rear torpedo. Back we went to the changing room, this time with Elijah in tow, because he wanted to go to the nursery, which isn't set up on Saturday nights. So I became Super Dad-- able to change a diaper with one hand while simultaneously reading the story of Moses in the other. It was pretty awesome, if I do say so myself.
Except... it was a pretty awesome failure. Why? you might ask. Well, because while I was reading the story of Moses, its intended hearer was up in my face hollering that he wanted the fan turned on (unless this is your first time reading this blog, I'm pretty sure you know who that is) while said Judah of the diaper change rolled over mid diaper change, and apparently overwhelmed by the smell, he had created, vomited all over the carpet. And do you know how Super Dad handled that one? That's right-- I left the two of them in there alone (after instructing Elijah to keep Judah away from the upchuck) and ran back for paper towels. When I came back, Elijah was trying to keep Judah out of his own ralph while Judah attempted to investigate the 'yogurt' nearby. By the time that was cleaned up, I was crispy fried. I ask once again-- how is it that you moms just keep going in stride?? And what's your secret of sanity??
Clearly my fault here was not just embracing the madness, because the sermon started and I went back to trying to play quietly with them. (as the Queen said after the whole thing, "it's not quite a soundproof room when Elijah and Judah are in there") That's when the fear of God was put into the congregation. Apparently there had just been a rather serious point made in the sermon testimony when Judah grabbed his nearby rattle and gave a sharp rap! rap! rap! on the large glass door. The entire congregation pinwheeled and looked back at our room, which thankfully was shrouded in curtains. It was as if the invisible God himself was literally knocking on people's hearts. I think was a little startling to everyone, even me. I grabbed the toy from Judah and (a little mortified) thought that if I just kept everyone behind the curtain, no one would know who it was. Judah, bless his heart, had other plans. Being deprived of his rattle, he seized the crimson curtain nearby and gave a violent yank. In front of a sanctuary full of people, we were quite literally unmasked. The great Oz was revealed behind the curtain to be a humbug... or in our case, three humbugs. And there were thirty more minutes to go.
We survived--- and for that, I am truly thankful. Ladies and gentlemen, that is why we at least will go to church on Sunday mornings. Have a wonderful day (and hopefully if you did go to church today, it wasn't anything like our madness!)
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