So I had this idea that if I was going to let this blog be an outlet for my inner-heathen, I would at least set aside Sunday as my "nice day on the blog". I even had a name all picked out for it: Schmaltzy Sunday. It was to be the day when I said nice things about my precious kids or how the homily at Mass that morning moved me in some way. We really have two great priests at our church and they often do have thought-provoking homilies.
Besides, after church we always take the boys to WaWa for one of their milkshakes as long as they are good. It's pretty much the only 51 minutes of the week that I am assured some peace and quiet!
Mass started at 10:30am. That idea was blown to shit by 10:34am.
Needless to say, this was NOT a fun morning for the family. When we got there, the only open pew with enough room to fit the 5 of us was directly behind the table with the Host and Wine. The Queen started screaming within minutes (taking an 18-month old to church is just SO fun), Prince #2 was fidgeting all over the place because he hadn't been in church for weeks due to typically having Sunday School during the 10:30 Mass, and Prince #1 was pretending that he was going to pick up the large wafer and/or drink the wine. I don't think he would have done it, but you just DON'T joke about that kind of stuff....especially when you know half the women in the church and they already think that you are the worst mother in the world because they saw you smoke a cigarette once.
Within minutes, Brad had whisked The Queen off to the crying room, leaving me with the boys. Ordinarily, they would have been great for me, but Brad must have sprinkled a little extra crack on their Fruit Loops this morning, because about 5 minutes later I gathered them up and marched them to the crying room as well. Once there, they started the putting-my-hand-directly-in-front-of-your-face-but-you-can't-get-me-in-trouble-because-I'm-not-touching-you game with each other. Oh bliss!
Remove Prince #2 to outside the church....whip out cell phone and threaten to call Santa. See that Prince #2 is appropriately petrified. Return to crying room. The game restarts within seconds.
I finally grabbed two kids (I don't even remember which 2), looked at Brad and said "we're outta here!"
Do you know those little shits had the audacity to ask me if we were still going to Wawa for milkshakes?
There are times when a mother will throw herself in front of a train if it meant that her child wouldn't get so much as a hangnail.
And then there are times where you tell them something just so you can see them cry.
This was one of those times.
The day didn't get much better.
Oh- and I still haven't wrapped a single present. And the in-laws will be here at noon tomorrow. And we have to be at my father's house at 3:00pm. And the house is a mess.
The only thing I remember hearing about the homily was "It's not about the eggnog, it's about the people drinking the eggnog with you."
But that really depends on how good the egg nog is, doesn't it?
Merry Christmas!
Allison
Oh, how I love the church nurseries of protestant churches :-). My Catholic-reared husband had to educate me about "crying rooms".
Hope the egg nog was good!