Last Night at Church

My favorite services at church are the non Sunday ones. I love Lent and Advent services the best of all. Maybe I am more awake and the girls are more tired, whatever the reason is I knew that we as a family needed to go to Ash Wednesday service last night. The night started out relatively peaceful, Sophia ran away from home after school after beating Emma on the bus with her back pack, Dan voted to take a pay freeze, and Emma thought water colors were an option for boredom. The ride to church was long but uneventful, which is unusual for us. We had a simple supper which again confirms mid week services are awesome, they serve a meal. In line Abby swiped a piece of Braunwschweiger (liver wurst) and took a huge bite. I looked down at her little face that was struck with terror. With a a huge bite in her mouth she mumbled "kdslugh yuck". With my hands full of two plates of food, a stuffed animal that was confiscated in line, no napkins...I did what any evil mom would say "swallow it." Abby did and then put the leftover piece on my plate. After that, asking her to try anything else in line became impossible. While Abby is with me, Sophia is already eying up the dessert table, and like most kids agree, it is the mother lode of food. My girls are not interested in cookies and cupcakes, no... they want kuchen, bars, tortes and all of those require an adult to help. Adult help is like kryptonite to my girls. It will cause bodily harm to ask or receive. The stress of the dessert table and tiredness start to be apparent as we enter church. We usually sit in the back in a section marked for "For families with small children" aka close to the door to yank the loud ones out, but tonight we were slow to get seats and ended up in the second pew. Yes, the second one. Right in front. One away from the altar. I filed the girls in every other adult so we can try to keep the peace. Someday Dan and I will sit together in church and actually hear the pastor instead of the whispers of fighting for the blue pen. With the music starting and the last of the people filing in, Emma mentions that she told Sophia that "No one likes her." and she doesn't like her that is why is needs to sit alone on the bus. That is why Emma came off the bus crying, Sophia took off, and the bus driver was yelling out the window. Great. Anything else you need to mention at this time, Emma? The service starts out well and I have the false sense that being in front will be okay. I glance over and see Sophia is sleeping and that is okay, it is her bedtime and she is a creature that needs sleep, however, while sleeping she does a normal bodily function and starts to fart. I am talking the loudest release. It is vibrating the pew like a machine gun and it goes on for at least 10- 15 seconds. Kelli starts to panic, Dan is confused who is kicking, Abby whines "Sophieeeeeeeeee", I am frantically hoping Dan can interpret my glares and mouth to do something, anything, pick her up but don't wake her, stop this... I feel a full panic myself coming about when I glance at Kelli and she has the giggles. No. NO. No no no no. Not the giggles. Sister giggles are contagious. Really contagious. I look away and notice that the vicar is the pew in front of us. When did that happen? Stop. No. Oh, no. The smell. It is starting to feel my face burn. I want to see what is happening but I can't look at Kelli, because I can her-the giggles trying to be suppressed. I look at Dan and see what I had hoped would not happen. The smell. Oh, the sickly nastiness of the noise is starting to dissipate in the air around us. I know if I can smell it, so can everyone else. My eyes are watering and I am suppressing the urge not to gag. Seriously, how old am I? I look to see if others are dying too, and straight ahead I see the Vicar's neck tightening and deep mouth breaths. This is it. This is it. The moment that I know we are doomed. Everyday there is such a moment that defines my day, my life, my motherhood. Nothing good will happen now. It is all downhill. The rest of the sermon (wonderful by the way, and loud. Who knew that sitting up front equated better sound?) went well but I knew deep down we were in trouble. I could feel the air, we were not done. Dan and I climbed over sleeping Sophia and went up for communion. As I stood there, I saw Abby shaking her beads to the music and starting to fight with Emma. Really? Really? Right now. I turn and motion for her to sit quietly. Dan and I are kneeling when out the corner of my eye I see movement. No, no no no. I sneak a glance, and the realize it has to be a full look. Abby is standing on the pew with her middle fingers sticking up at us. Are you kidding me? We made eye contact and she magically in slides down to her seat and looks down. The pastor is waiting to give me wine and I am dumbstruck. Whose kid just did that? Where did she learn that? Where did we go wrong for her to ever think that is okay? And that was last night at church.

Calm Down, Mom

Last week my daughter E watched me frantically race around the kitchen, trying to feed and water the dogs, make lunch, nag about hanging up coats and book bags and strategically add more trash to the overfull garbage can, when E says barely audible "Calm down, Mom. Just calm down, settle." I took a deep breath as all experienced moms do (taking a breath in a lecture, gives your child a brief moment to try to put a word in edgewise) and realized that I needed to calm down. So what the kids are hungry, they will survive two more minutes. So what the garbage falls on the floor, the dogs will take it out side for me-it will snow and I'll worry about it in spring. I needed to calm down, E caught me off guard because any other day I might have interpreted that as a snide remark. E at 4 year old knows snide, other great maternal quality I may have passed on to her.  I did calm down and together the three girls and I made a huge monument in the trash can for Dan.