The morning started out as an above-average Sunday morning. HoneyGram and Papa were out of town for the weekend (not that that made it above average, it's just a detail). Netty woke up early, climbed into bed with Atticus, the two laughed and played until they got too loud for Jon and I to keep sleeping, and then we made breakfast and got ready for church. Netty let me do her hair, and she actually kept it in. For the first time in weeks, the church bag had toys and books in it that the kids really wanted to play with. We didn't have to run out the door. We weren't sweaty by the time we sat down in a pew--yes, we were early enough on our own to get a pew. The kids played quietly with their toys, and as I sang the opening song, I thought, "Oh yeah, we're good. We got this."
Not so fast, Sister Phelps.
The sacrament concluded and the deacons joined their families. Suddenly, the gates of Hell opened, and an army of minions sneaked up on us from all sides. Atticus messed his diaper, and Jon took him out to change him. Netty, who had been playing so well with a few toys, started asking for more Little People, the ones that I didn't bring. She started whining until I offered her some snacks. Jon and Atticus returned, and I gave both kids fruit snacks. Crisis averted.
Or so I thought. Netty asked for more fruit snacks, but they were all gone. I said, "Do you want some fishy crackers?" When she said she did, I dug in the bag. I dug some more. And then I saw myself pull the bags of crackers and cereal out of my bag and set them on our bed before we left for church. And I saw myself NOT put them back. The whining began again, this time joined by Atticus. I tried to read them a story. They wouldn't listen. Jon leaned over and smelled another messy diaper. He rolled his eyes, asked for the diapers and wipes again, and carried Atticus out. Netty tried to follow, and I grabbed her arm and pulled her out of the aisle. "Netty," I whispered, "you need to stay here."
"No! I go!" she screamed.
"Daddy's just changing Atti's diaper. He's poopy," I whisper while trying to wrangle a crying, flailing Netty.
She wriggled loose and ran into the aisle. I tried to grab her, but before I could, she screamed, "NO! I POOOOOPEEEEEE!"
I grabbed a diaper, picked up Netty, who was still kicking and crying, and carried her out. We met Jon in the hall. He said, "Atticus wasn't even poopy."
"Yeah," I said. "Netty is."
I changed Netty's diaper and with as much dignity as I could muster, we returned to our pew in the chapel. Fast and Testimony meeting was almost over by this time. When it was all over and time to take Netty to Nursery, we met our neighbor in the hall. She smiled and said, "A little harder without Grandma and Grandpa?"
Netty fell asleep in one of her teacher's arms during Nursery. Atticus munched four Ritz crackers and several goldfish in the Relief Society room carpet during Sunday School, but then he decided to go to Priesthood with Jon during the final hour.
As I sat by myself in Relief Society that Sunday, I thought back to other similar Sundays, back before Netty was in nursery and we were trying to juggle two kids and a car seat through all three meetings. I thought about spending all of Sacrament Meeting in the hall with Netty because she wouldn't sit still and be quiet for even a few minutes, and how I went for two months without getting the Sacrament before the bishop announced that the bread and water would be taken out to the foyers. I thought about all of the other times when I decided I never wanted to have another Sunday like this, and how I swore I wouldn't go back, and how there are sure to be many more Sundays like this with our children and any others that we may have in the future.
I let the peace of the still Relief Society room curl around me. I soaked it in and tucked it away deep inside me for Sundays to come.
No comments:
Post a Comment