By Heather O.
Our church is at 12:30. I hate this time. It’s possibly the worst time ever for a family with small children. It cuts into both mealtime and naptime, and missing both of these key things will make any toddler into a complete monster. Ask the harried nursery leader. Also, once they moved us to this time, I had to quit the choir, because nobody can practice sacred music with my little demon doing laps around the chapel during our rehearsals, yelling, “I NEED TO GO HOME” over and over at the top of his lungs.
But the hardest thing for us is the morning time. Yesterday was especially bad. Spring has sprung, and clearly, it’s nicer outside than inside. Hence, Jacob would like to be outside as much as he possibly can. I was trying to prepare a lesson and get dinner together for the crock pot and get us both ready for church, but somehow he couldn’t understand my objection to him playing outside on the playground in his pajamas. Nor did he appreciate my admonition to “sit down and don’t get dirty” after his church clothes were on. The morning was filled with contention, a mild amount of chaos, an entire outfit change right as we were getting into the car (he wasn’t listening very closely to the “don’t get dirty” part of my previous message, apparantly) and, alas, a video of “The Iron Giant” just to get him to sit still long enough for me to get everything together.
Of course I’m doing this all without DH. If he’s not working at the firm on Sunday mornings, he goes in early to church to deal with his calling as ward clerk so he doesn’t have to stay too late AFTER church as a ward clerk. I hate that he’s the ward clerk. (Now I’m ducking to avoid the lightening strike that is surely coming now that I’ve openly epxressed my displeasure at not being consulted about calling my husband to a job that takes even more time away from his family, but that’s another post altogether.)
Then I tried to salvage any kind of spiritual moment as we drove to church by turning on some lovely classical paino music. This prompted a screeching, “I don’t like this song! I need Doe-a-Deer!” from the afore-mentioned demon strapped in the back seat, which caused a snarling response of, “NO! We are listening to songs about Jesus on Sunday!” from the woman driving, who was rapidly mutating from sweet Molly Mormon mother to Momma from Hell.
I wish I could say that this was an unusual Sunday, but sadly, I’d say we arrive to church harried, disheveled, and wanting to kill each other all before the Sacrament more often than not. There’s got to be a better way. Anybody figured one out yet?
Oh, and I just remembered that there was a similar discussion about this at FMH, and I’m really not trying to poach. It’s not that I think we shouldn’t bother–I’m just wondering how to do it better, because clearly, my way isn’t exactly bringing the spirit into our home. I mean, Jacob seems to be getting his “Iron Giant” fix, and had a fit when we returned to the video store, but I would like his focus to be on other things on Sunday than just a robot from outer space who shoots people with some wicked awesome guns. I just don’t think the nursery leaders appreciate Jacob mimicing THAT for 2 hours.
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