Run, Forrest, Run!
Church, like every other event, is an adventure for us. We have our best fights on Sunday mornings (shhhhh, that's a BIG Christian secret) as we attempt to get everyone ready and out the door by 9, or 9:15, or (most likely) 9:30 so that we can speed (and fight more) to make it on time. By the time we get there, someone has removed a hairbow that I worked 10 minutes to put in; someone else has taken a shoe off; someone has to go potty; DH still has to shave. Then we rush the older 2 off to their Sunday school class (they're in the same one) and half-run with the baby to the main building with high hopes that we will not wind up sitting in the very back of the room because we're late (like we'd ever make it early enough to move up a few rows). Never fear, though. Since last May, mommy has watched church from the cry room with a certain someone who can't keep herself quiet.
However, since we are all about moving onward and upward, we have been nursery-training the baby. This is similar to potty training in that it takes a LONG TIME to do, it's messy, there's usually a dirty diaper, and there's plenty of crying involved. After we've spent 5 minutes in the main service & made our presence known to everyone within 8 rows of us, I walk the baby back over to the Sunday school building where nursery-training takes place. She knows when we're on our way there because she gets very, very quiet. If she could just follow directions and be this quiet in church, we wouldn't have the problem that we have in the first place.
It's a very standard routine: sign her in on the clipboard; take a number. Hand her to the nice nursery worker(s) who are all THRILLED to see her (why wouldn't you want a screamer in the nursery with 16 other babies?)....fix a bottle. The nice nursery grandma shows the wonderful bottle to the baby, and she shoves it away and screams. Baby lunges for mommy, and mommy turns and walks out the door while the screaming fit begins. I can only assume she thinks one of two things: A) "You're leaving me here with these people and I'll never see you again!!!!", or B) I am so mad at you for making me stay here again that I'm not going to take naps for five days!!!" Either way, I feel guilty.
By now, worship is over. It's back to the main building to watch the number board. The nursery people will flash the baby's ID number if she's being bad (which is usually 20 minutes). Today, 20 minutes came and went. I was starting to wonder if one of the workers had lost her number, or drugged her. 30 minutes. 40 minutes. It's a miracle...I've almost been in church for an entire service! (Well, minus the whole first half hour.). 43 minutes...and there's her number. Everyone stares as DH goes out the door to get our baby, the loud one, the one that gets us paged every week, the one that gets the boot from the nursery.
Daddy brings her back into the main building and she's so exicted to see me and be reunited after the eternal separation she feared...that she squeals. Loudly. She grabs my hair, jumps up and down on my legs, and yells, "Dadadadadadada!!!" And it's back to the cry room we go until church is over.
So today, after all of this, DH took Hyper to the car while I went to retrieve the older two. Sweaters on, thank-yous to the teachers, and it's out the door we go. Only I seem to have acquired a 3rd child, and this one is Asian and (obviously) has Downs Syndrome. Hmmm... Boo lets me know that this girl is following us (thank goodness my child is on top of things). There are no other parents outside; there were a couple standing inside. I open up the classroom door and ask the parents in there if anyone has misplaced a little girl...but I'm met with blank stares. The little girl utters something unintelligible, and Boo translates, "I think she's lost."
"Honey, you need to go back inside and wait for your Mommy and Daddy," I say. She mumbles again and points to the parking lot, which is about 30 yards away. "No, come on...let's go back inside."
It isn't working. I'm grabbing at straws now. "Boo, is this girl in your class?" Maybe she just wanders in and out of classrooms..I hope.
"Yeah," Boo answers. Great.
The little girl starts walking towards the parking lot with a purpose. I told Boo & Bubby to stand still, and I start running after the girl. Now, it's been a while since I've run anywhere. I wasn't too sure I still knew how to do it. Especially in boots...but I didn't want to be known around church as the "Mommy Who Let the Little Girl Get Run Over in the Parking Lot". I feel like an idiot. Run, Forrest, Run! The little girl turns around and realizes that I'm running toward her, so what else would she do? Run, too. And she's a fast little thing...we're almost to the parking lot when she (thankfully) turns the corner of the building. For the love of all that's holy, child. Seriously. I can't run. All I can do is the elliptical for 30 minutes and that's more like air running. I'm beginning to realize that I am, indeed, a great mom because I left my own 2 children wayyyyy back on the other side of the building.
Speedy is finally in my sights again and then she rounds another corner...and I notice DH out of the corner of my eye, standing at the truck with a look on his face that read something like, "What on God's green earth is my wife sprinting after a little Asian girl for?" At least he's realized that his smart wife has left the other 2 offspring stranded by themselves, and I don't feel so bad. Around the 2nd corner...and there she is. Stopped by a locked gate, hallelujah. I'm not as out of breath as I thought I'd be, so I start in with, "Honey, we need to go back to Sunday school now."
She grunts and points at the playground just beyond the gate. I try to take her hand, but she pulls away and yells. Great. Now somebody is going to think I'm trying to kidnap the little Asian girl. This little circus show has gone on long enough, so I tell her that we are, most definitely, going back to Sunday school, and I take her hand. She fights me a little, but walks behind me. I'm halfway back to the classroom when the Sunday school teacher (who is a little late to this child-chasing event!) meets up with us. She thanks me, takes the little girl, and mumbles something about, "This one can't get out..." Well, if I would've known that opening the door to the classroom was consistent with opening a puppy cage and hoping none escaped with the 2 I was retrieving...I would've been more careful!
DH asked me what happened when I got to the truck.
"Just an escapee," I told him. Where's my medal of valor? ; )
However, since we are all about moving onward and upward, we have been nursery-training the baby. This is similar to potty training in that it takes a LONG TIME to do, it's messy, there's usually a dirty diaper, and there's plenty of crying involved. After we've spent 5 minutes in the main service & made our presence known to everyone within 8 rows of us, I walk the baby back over to the Sunday school building where nursery-training takes place. She knows when we're on our way there because she gets very, very quiet. If she could just follow directions and be this quiet in church, we wouldn't have the problem that we have in the first place.
It's a very standard routine: sign her in on the clipboard; take a number. Hand her to the nice nursery worker(s) who are all THRILLED to see her (why wouldn't you want a screamer in the nursery with 16 other babies?)....fix a bottle. The nice nursery grandma shows the wonderful bottle to the baby, and she shoves it away and screams. Baby lunges for mommy, and mommy turns and walks out the door while the screaming fit begins. I can only assume she thinks one of two things: A) "You're leaving me here with these people and I'll never see you again!!!!", or B) I am so mad at you for making me stay here again that I'm not going to take naps for five days!!!" Either way, I feel guilty.
By now, worship is over. It's back to the main building to watch the number board. The nursery people will flash the baby's ID number if she's being bad (which is usually 20 minutes). Today, 20 minutes came and went. I was starting to wonder if one of the workers had lost her number, or drugged her. 30 minutes. 40 minutes. It's a miracle...I've almost been in church for an entire service! (Well, minus the whole first half hour.). 43 minutes...and there's her number. Everyone stares as DH goes out the door to get our baby, the loud one, the one that gets us paged every week, the one that gets the boot from the nursery.
Daddy brings her back into the main building and she's so exicted to see me and be reunited after the eternal separation she feared...that she squeals. Loudly. She grabs my hair, jumps up and down on my legs, and yells, "Dadadadadadada!!!" And it's back to the cry room we go until church is over.
So today, after all of this, DH took Hyper to the car while I went to retrieve the older two. Sweaters on, thank-yous to the teachers, and it's out the door we go. Only I seem to have acquired a 3rd child, and this one is Asian and (obviously) has Downs Syndrome. Hmmm... Boo lets me know that this girl is following us (thank goodness my child is on top of things). There are no other parents outside; there were a couple standing inside. I open up the classroom door and ask the parents in there if anyone has misplaced a little girl...but I'm met with blank stares. The little girl utters something unintelligible, and Boo translates, "I think she's lost."
"Honey, you need to go back inside and wait for your Mommy and Daddy," I say. She mumbles again and points to the parking lot, which is about 30 yards away. "No, come on...let's go back inside."
It isn't working. I'm grabbing at straws now. "Boo, is this girl in your class?" Maybe she just wanders in and out of classrooms..I hope.
"Yeah," Boo answers. Great.
The little girl starts walking towards the parking lot with a purpose. I told Boo & Bubby to stand still, and I start running after the girl. Now, it's been a while since I've run anywhere. I wasn't too sure I still knew how to do it. Especially in boots...but I didn't want to be known around church as the "Mommy Who Let the Little Girl Get Run Over in the Parking Lot". I feel like an idiot. Run, Forrest, Run! The little girl turns around and realizes that I'm running toward her, so what else would she do? Run, too. And she's a fast little thing...we're almost to the parking lot when she (thankfully) turns the corner of the building. For the love of all that's holy, child. Seriously. I can't run. All I can do is the elliptical for 30 minutes and that's more like air running. I'm beginning to realize that I am, indeed, a great mom because I left my own 2 children wayyyyy back on the other side of the building.
Speedy is finally in my sights again and then she rounds another corner...and I notice DH out of the corner of my eye, standing at the truck with a look on his face that read something like, "What on God's green earth is my wife sprinting after a little Asian girl for?" At least he's realized that his smart wife has left the other 2 offspring stranded by themselves, and I don't feel so bad. Around the 2nd corner...and there she is. Stopped by a locked gate, hallelujah. I'm not as out of breath as I thought I'd be, so I start in with, "Honey, we need to go back to Sunday school now."
She grunts and points at the playground just beyond the gate. I try to take her hand, but she pulls away and yells. Great. Now somebody is going to think I'm trying to kidnap the little Asian girl. This little circus show has gone on long enough, so I tell her that we are, most definitely, going back to Sunday school, and I take her hand. She fights me a little, but walks behind me. I'm halfway back to the classroom when the Sunday school teacher (who is a little late to this child-chasing event!) meets up with us. She thanks me, takes the little girl, and mumbles something about, "This one can't get out..." Well, if I would've known that opening the door to the classroom was consistent with opening a puppy cage and hoping none escaped with the 2 I was retrieving...I would've been more careful!
DH asked me what happened when I got to the truck.
"Just an escapee," I told him. Where's my medal of valor? ; )
posted by Beth @ 9:13 PM
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