Sunday, February 15, 2009

a punching bag could come in handy

I had one of those mornings. You know the kind... if it wasn't for love your husband and kids would probably be buried in a field somewhere.

It was a normal Sunday morning getting ready for church. Dave was still sleeping and the kids and I were pretty laid back until the last 10 minutes then its balls to the wall trying to get everyone into their coats and strapped in the car and hope like hell we wont be late.

We walk in right as they start singing the entrance song and its a race for us to get into our pew and shake our coats off before the priest starts talking.

The kids pull the kneeler down and that's when the trouble started. Olivia absolutely HAD to touch Alex. It didnt matter how she touched him, she just had to keep some part of her touching anything on him.

I gave it 30 seconds before I put Olivia on the other side of me. I then spent the next hour dragging her ass back to her side of me. If I tried paying any attention to mass, she would shoot behind me to get to him. I would pull her back, she would jerk to get down and start crying.

I know they have a cry room in the back of the church for just this kind of situation but I've made it 4 years without the kids learning what that room really is for and I am sure as shit not going to teach them they get a free pass by turning into a banshee.

So there we sit, feeling like a spectacle. I can feel all of the old ladies sitting behind me trying to kill me with their eyes.

The process of getting up, gathering all of our crap and shoving the kids out the door would have outed myself as the source of the disturbances to the entire church.

When Olivia decided to scream/cry into my shoulder through the ENTIRE consecration I thought my head would pop off.

Church finally ends and I get the kids coats on as fast as I can trying hard not to make eye contact with anyone afraid I would get some sympathetic soul try to make me feel better and I would have to sit smile and nod when really I would rather just punch them in the face.

When Dave gets up 3 hours later he asks me how church went. I said it was bad. Really bad.

Dave: "Lots of wiggling?"
me: "yes"
Dave: "Lots of screwing around?"
me: "yes"
Dave: "wow, you're still pissed. What exactly did Alex do?"
me: "Alex was perfect, it was your darling daughter."

The look of disbelief I got from my husband was enough to want to punch him too.

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