It’s Tuesday and I’m finally recuperated enough from Sunday to write this post. Sorry I missed my Makin’ Monday post. I needed sleep and I finally got it, so I’ll share what I made next week. I’ve got a lot of life ponderings to divulge this week anyway.
First, Sundays just aren’t what they used to be. Forget afternoon naps and relaxing with the hubs, this is my hardest day of the week.
It started from the moment I woke up. I was in our nursery, in the guest bed. My daughter was climbing on me and smacking my face. I had wandered in there the night before when my she woke up crying. She was ready to get up for the day and I was begging for more rest.
I tried to shove my boob in her mouth in hopes she’d nurse and fall back asleep–Sometimes it works. But my husband walks in, dressed for church. He doesn’t want to ask me if I’m coming because he knows I’m tired after a long night of work, and that another long night of work is ahead. But our daughter leaps into his arms with excitement and I know I should go too.
He offers to take her downstairs while I get ready. It would have been even nicer had he dressed her while I was getting ready but I didn’t think about it as I hurried to get prepared.
I brought her Sunday dress downstairs with me and we changed and dressed her together.
If I could have freezed that moment of the day and take it with me, it would have been great. But it was all downhill after that.
We arrived right at 9, which meant the good seats were taken, but we’d at least be there for sacrament meeting.
The next three hours that followed were just short of torture.
She didn’t want to sit with me. But she didn’t want to crawl around and play with her toys either. She wanted to walk around. Excuse me, I mean she wanted ME to carry her and walk around.
Every time I tried to sit down, whether in the foyer area, or in the chapel, she wasn’t having it. She’d arch her back and do her loud baby growl/moan until I obeyed, stood back up, and continued my walk.
I know they say you can’t spoil an infant but at some point they learn how to manipulate mommies and I’m pretty sure my little one has always mastered this art. And she knows it.
She’ll suck on my keys and when I try to take them away she sequels until I give them back. And I do because it makes her happy, and because I doubt it’ll kill her.
So here I am walking my bossy baby around the church, and listening to the testimonies when I can while passing by rooms with speakers.
She does ok when I try to feed her in the mother’s lounge but it’s not long before she’s ready to get to walking again. Still whining every time I so much as stop to read a bulletin board.
Now to her credit she’s not always this crazy. Most of the time she’s a very happy baby who loves to explore church and other new places. I’m not sure what got into her this week. I’m assuming (and praying) it’s teething and not a budding personality trait.
I feel like my daughter is the only mini drama queen at church, or maybe I’m just the only mom that doesn’t know how to handle my child.
Toward the end of sacrament meeting I gave up and turned her over to my husband. His job (or “calling” as we call it in my church) is to count the members and take care of records. He was finished counting and could hold Lil’ J while I tried to listen and get something out of church.
I heard the last bit of one sister’s testimony which was touching, but not as much as the moment afterward, where she walked back to sit down and I realized she was sitting in our row of chairs. She passed me and I watched her go to sit next to her daughter who appeared to be about 9 or 10 years old.
“You did so good mommy,” she told her with a proud glow radiating from her face.
In that moment I pictured that being me and my daughter in 8 or 9 years, and instantly my frustrations melted away. What a sweet picture.
My eyes watered as I tried to soak in the good feeling. It lasted a few moments, because just then, what seemed like only 40 seconds after they had left, my husband and daughter were returning.
I greeted them, and held my daughter, she seemed to be happier–At least momentarily.
We sang and listened to a prayer that ended sacrament meeting. The first of three hours of service.
Yes, you read right. THREE HOURS.
I whispered to my husband that we Mormons are crazy for having tons of kids and meeting at church for three hours ever week. He told me it didn’t always used to be that way, and vowed to go undercover, move up in the ranks, and change it back to the way it was a hundred years ago. Just for me. What a guy!
Off to Sunday school we went. The hubs had to go do clerk stuff so I took Lil’ J to my class. We didn’t make it through introductions before she was flipping out again and I excused myself.
Last week another mom had given me a tip to visit the nursery with her. I can’t leave her in there alone until she’s 18 months but she could go and play with the toys and hear the lesson now if I was with her. So we went to visit and see what it was all about.
Toys toys everywhere. She wasn’t happy when I set her down but she wasn’t screaming either. There was enough stimulation going on to keep her entertained for about 40 minutes or so, with me playing along with her every once in a while. Around lesson and snack time though, she was ready to go and eat, but not the food these kids were eating, so we excused ourselves again to go back to the nursing room.
I saw a woman I had seen in there earlier with her baby again and we talked awhile. I had given up on trying to have any kind of spiritual lesson that day and just asked her about her family life. She told me how she wants to have six kids, and I asked why in the world she’d want to do that. I mean, sometimes I say I want six kids but deep down I don’t mean it. It was neat hearing her opinion on spawning.
Lil’ J fell asleep while eating and I tried my best not to wake her. Perhaps she needed to catch some Zzzz’s and that’s why she was acting a fool. I’m not sure.
After church I laid down for a 20 minute nap before heading to work. I felt like a failed mom as I handed my daughter over to my husband to tame her while I rested a bit. Why can he handle her better than I can?
I got a tiny bit of shut eye before a 14 hour shift at work. I was already sleep deprived and crying on my way in–Feeling deflated–defeated by my mini me. But little did I know the day I had ahead of me. Yea, I didn’t get hope until 4am after the news from President Obama. It was exciting but exhausting.
The whole day I kept asking myself “why did I go to church?” It’s so awful I feel that way but even in my somewhat refreshed state I’m in right now I do have to ask myself that occasionally. Especially around the third hour of meetings where I haven’t heard a thing from a speaker.
I know this is just the season of life I’m in right now. It won’t be like this forever, and in another 8 months I’ll at least get two free hours of babysitting out of the deal. And if I’m lucky I may even learn something again.
It’s not like this every Sunday–Thank goodness. I think if it was I’d probably go inactive.–But I hope it’s not the start of a crazy long phase where my angel baby turns into a little devil at church.