This is a picture of our children BEFORE church. Notice how their ties are ON. Their shirts are tucked in, their laces are tied, their hair is combed, with bows IN the girls' hair and their faces are clean?
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| Just ignore the sippy cup under the couch. Yes I know it's there, welcome to my life! |
This was no simple under taking. It involved much wrestling, grumping, ironing, curling, threatening and maybe a bit of bribery. We begin the day before. And no, there is no singing of the song "Saturday is a special day". I have issues stemming to my childhood that deal with that song. But it does involve "dessert after your ENTIRE Sunday attire is laid out for church". Bath time results in the flooding of the bathroom, unhappiness over who used the most hot water, and at least one child with soap in their eyes. And despite our efforts to make sure that every piece of clothing was laid out the night before, one of them will report the loss of a sock, shoe or scripture bag just as we are about to go out the door.
This is a picture of our children AFTER church. Pretty much all of the above are now the opposite.
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| Granted this was a different day, but it all just blends together! |
Now let me go into the actual three hours of "reverence" we experience each week. It begins with sacrament: the most reverent of meetings. At least it is supposed to be...
For some unknown reason, our family has chosen to sit each week in the third or fourth row from the front. But as all church goers know, no one wants to sit on the first two rows, so essentially we are the front. And as most church goers know, every one has their own bench. Not because they are assigned, but just because that's where your family sits. And more than one week has been "off" because our bench was sat on by some other family. You know what I'm talking about!
Recommended: arrive 10-15 minutes before church begins to enjoy the prelude music and get more "in tune with the spirit". Yeah right! If we arrive early, everything I brought to keep them quiet during church will now be eaten, or have become boring. It is much better to seat ourselves at 10:58!
Let me just say this, it's best just to pass the sacrament tray to my children and move quickly away. They are in the "do it myself" stage. They don't seem to mind too much if they spill the water on themselves as long as they get to pass it. Try as we might with the "take the one that you touch" phrase, one of them usually sifts through the bread before finding the biggest piece. And please forgive them as they replace their little cup. Those tiny cups hold more than their little mouths can take in one mouthful. The remainder is usually poured back over the tops of the unused cups. Just don't look in your cup when it gets to you, and remember, it has been blessed. This is not to make a mockery of the importance of the Sacrament. It's just what happens...despite our repeated family home evenings on the subject.
As soon as the young men have returned to sit with their families, (our rule is no activities until after the sacrament) papers begin to flutter down the pew. And this is when the fun begins! At this point we will begin to hear about who took who's crayon. Who gets to have the clipboard instead of a book. And why someone brought only two fruit snack packages when their are 3 children young enough for snacks during church!
Before we know it, our six year old is shaking the entire bench with her "I need to go to the bathroom RIGHT NOW!" wiggle. And as she exits, she makes a point of bumping everyone she passes. John is solving a dispute over who gets which of the identical I spy books and then the baby has thrown the cell phone three rows back while I collected the fruit snack wrappers.
We retrieve the phone, with whispered apologies only to glance down the bench and notice that the ten year old now has the 5 year old in a head lock. And who knows the reason?! I quickly flash my "one, two, three fingers" at them and they shove each other away. Ah, such love!
The six year old returns in time to have the five year old tell us that now he has to go. And while I am putting the baby's shoes back on her feet before they too find themselves in someone else's bench, I mouth to the ten year old to take the five year old. That never goes over well. He mutters the whole way out how "he has to do everything". John and I look at each other and roll our eyes.
Part of the humor in all this is how it is done in a whisper. It's pretty amazing the things kids understand from some counted fingers, eyebrows raised and the slight of a head nod. I can give them a squinted eyes and pursed lips look and they know they are in trouble!
Shortly after the two boys return, arms folded mind you (such reverence), the ten year old whisper-shrieks with disgust. His sister is wiping her nose on the inside hem of her dress. I pass down a wipe (the tissues ran out during our prelude music part of the meeting). Oh well, at least it wasn't on the visible part of her sleeve.
I used to envy those women I would see sitting next to their husbands, his arm around her and wonder "Why can't we sit like that?" I'll tell you why! Five kids! With both of our arms NOT around each other we are still one arm short!
The two year old is now stuffing pieces of gum into his mouth as fast as he can, and the five year old is turning red with the injustice of not getting any. John wrestles the gum package away from one and shushes the other's tears over the fact that ALL of the gum is now in his brother's mouth. We begin to collect the gum wrappers from our area and notice that the baby is now halfway up the stairs onto the podium. Great. I send the ten year old after her and wipe the drool running down the two year old's face while the five year old gives him the "glare of death". They learned that glare from me.
Ahh, peace reigns for five minutes while the two year old chews his gum(s) and the five year old pouts. The baby is back in the confines of our bench and the older children have found something to keep themselves occupied. John and I glare at the clock on the wall.
But silence is never a good thing. Apparently not even at church. And instinctively we glance over our sweet young children and notice that the baby is now stretching a dull white string across her arms, legs and dress. I lean across two of the giggling children and snatch the remaining wad of gum from her chubby little hands. Where did she find this gum? From the two year old who gave it to her when the flavor had run out. Great again.
I breathe a sigh of relief as the bishop's counselor stands up to end the meeting. Only to have him say "Oh, and one item of business I forgot to announce, the Elder's Quorum Presidency has been changed, and Brother John Jenkins has been called as the president along with..." I fail to hear the remainder of his announcement. I am busy picking gum off of clothes. Yes everyone, the new Elder's Quorum President's family has just entertained you all with a circus.
But the first third of church has ended for this week, with only two more hours to go. I meet with a sister in the bathrooms between classes. She gives me the same glossy eyed stare I know I have. "Don't you wonder why you even bother some weeks?" she asks me and apologizes for her children's noise. I laugh and tell her "I didn't hear them at all, I was too busy wrangling mine in!" Maybe that's the way it is for everyone!
So when John and I are once again able to sit arms around each other, or even near each other, I hope that I will look at the young families and remember the day when three hours of church seemed like an eternity!
