“Dear God,
I promise my intentions are good. However, the execution of said intentions is a little iffy.
In Jesus name, Amen.”
That has been my evening prayer lately. I have unfortunately muttered that prayer more times than I would like to admit. In my defense, we have had a hell of a winter. My love nuggets have been a constant incubus of plague. They got sick before Christmas and have been literally dripping with germs ever since. They have also lovingly shared that plague with me on several occasions. THAT has been the true destroyer of my patience. Every parent knows that taking care of sick children while you, too, are 3 minutes from death is a real ball buster. Have you ever had to clean up baby diarrhea while you have a fever of 103 degrees? It’s the WORST. You know what would be significantly more fun than that? Getting stabbed with a dull butter knife in the non-life-threatening arm fat. That would be SIGNIFICANTLY MORE ENJOYABLE than the warmth of chunky baby regurgitation down your already fevering chest. I swear that shit SIZZLED when it hit my body.
There have been ear infections, fevers, vomit, toddlers running barefoot through vomit (not sure what I am referring to? CLICK THIS BIOTCH to read about my recent brush with bile) influenza, snot, liquid fecal matter, more vomit, snot, rashes, sinus infections, viruses, snot, snot, snot, snot, and more friggen SNOT. You’re welcome, Kleenex employees, for the recent increase in your retirement fund. But I digress…
So in an effort to calm our stress level, cleanse our souls, and instill some good moral fiber in to our ornery-as-shit offspring, I started taking them to church. I know, I know, most of you are thinking:
“You are just NOW taking them to church? And your oldest is FOUR?! FOR SHAME!”
But if you could please keep the Snarky Sally side of you at bay and refrain from giving me any sort of flack about my delay in church going, that would be GREEEEAATTTT.
I have the perfect location for your judgments, it’s in a small town far away called “Shutty McShut-it-ville”. New patrons welcome! OK, my point has been made, let’s forgive and forget. *insert single agreeable head nod here*
So here we are on the first Sunday that I truly committed to going to church and was ACTUALLY following through with said commitment. I had decided that, to be generous to myself and give me some time to figure out the logistics and test out the holy waters, I would just take Everlee with me and leave Leyton at home. This way, I can introduce Everlee without the distraction of her never-sits-still-ever brother and I could be calm and patient in teaching her how to behave in church. Also because I am going to need marathon-esque cardio training to prepare for the amount of times I will be chasing him up and down the stairs, and that training is currently on the Baconfest back burner (WHOOOO BACON!). And if any of you know my crotch spawns personally, you know that the energy levels run VERY high and one person would be a true lunatic to take on the task of having both of them in church without a backup adult or seven. There ain’t enough vino on the planet to take the edge off of THAT debacle. I would find myself circling through the communion line on repeat just to get more sips from Jesus’ chalice and hope that the pastor didn’t recognize me before the 10th body of Christ was consumed. But I, again, digress…
Let’s go ahead and skip past the 2 mother-freaking hours it took me to get the kids awake, dressed, fed, and ready for this day. I think I have PTSD from those two retched hours. Everlee decided, in true Everlee form, that TODAY was going to be the day she turned on her psycho. REALLY, KID? TODAY? This is God’s work, I just know it. This is God’s test of my patience level. He knew that I was planning on bringing this tiny tyrant to His house today and was sure giving me a hell of a run for my money in doing so. But lucky for me, I knew this was a test. So I locked myself in the bathroom for a “mommy moment”, looked at myself in the mirror, pointed a stern finger right to my own face and said:
“Do not let the four year old beat you. You are stronger than this. Do not falter under the pressure. God is watching, don’t be a failure. Pull your shit together, woman! You are a strong, confident, and stable ADULT and you WILL get that flippin’ miniature lunatic to the flippin’ church to learn about how to be a good flippin’ person! NOW PULL YOUR BIG GIRL PANTIES UP AND GET IN THE F***ING CAR.”
So I did just that. I scooped up that little curly haired ball of personality and I got her securely buckled in to that 5 point harness and I pulled in to the church parking lot minutes before service started. At this point I decided that, before I set the beast in the backseat loose, I deserved a pat on the back for getting THIS far. I took a few seconds to congratulate myself and revel in my own success. (I won’t mention that an Ed Sheeran song was on the radio and not quite over yet. I probably shouldn’t prioritize music over church tardiness, so again, I won’t even mention the short jam out sesh that also occurred right here at this point in time…)
Moving on:
After I reluctantly unbuckled the straps of the car seat and realized that this was it, it was too late to turn back now, I started to question my own sanity. As much as I love Jesus, was I REALLY prepared to take this little type A personality in to a large room with lot’s of people where one must be non-distracting, attentive, and *gasp* QUIET? Quiet. QUIET! OMG IT IS A PHYSICAL IMPOSSIBILITY FOR OUR FAMILY TO BE QUIET! YOU BET YOUR EVER-GROWING ASS THAT SHE IS GOING TO SQUACK LIKE A BIRD! What will the fellow church goers think? Will I get nasty looks? Will we need to leave? Will they shun me, straight-up Amish style? The questions in my mind were furious and the unknown was intimidating! But I wasn’t about to let the last 3 hours of pure, agonizing horror go to waste, so in TO the church we go.
And here is a little glimpse in to what it is like to take a hilarious, witty, ornery, rule-breaking preschooler to church:
“MOM! I AM SO EXCITED! WE GET TO SEE JESUS TODAY!”
*Preschooler takes off in a dead sprint to the front door*
“Everlee, don’t run! Please WALK!”
*still running*
“But MOOOM!! IN PRESCHOOL THEY TOLD US THAT JESUS DIES FOR OUR SINS AND I WANT TO SIT ON JESUS’S LAP AND TELL HIM WHAT I WANT FOR CHRISTMAS SO WE HAVE TO GET THERE BEFORE HE DIES!!”
“Mom, what if I get bored?”
“We will grab an activity bag before we sit down.”
“Does the activity bag come with snacks? Like ice cream or somethin’?”
“No.”
*insert eye roll and a look of utter disgust and disappointment.*
*Everlee stands up randomly and starts dancing, a legit freestyle, complete with pointed disco fingers to the sky. All amidst the silence of a prayer*
“Everlee, sit down and listen to what the pastor is teaching us. He will tell us all about Jesus, and you LOVE Jesus!”
*Everlee stares right in to my soul, without even blinking, for an extended period of time. She suddenly puts her hands on her hips, gives one last booty shake, and sits down*
*A fly swoops in and lands right on Everlee’s shoulder. She is TERRIFIED of flies*
“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!”
SCREAM. SWIPE SWIPE. RUN AROUND IN CIRCLE. WHINE. Let’s out an exasperated “UGH!”
……………silence………….
“Where is the fly, Mom?! Where did it go?! DID IT LAND ON JESUS?!”
*Pastor talks about forgiveness and how Jesus says that we should forgive our enemies*
“Mom, Jesus says that we should forgive people that hurt us.”
*Me, beaming with pride that she ACTUALLY heard something they said*
“Yes, Ev, He does! Good for you for listening!”
“Well….I forgive you, Mom, for not making me go poop before we left.”
“What….are you talking about?”
“Poop. I have to go poop, Mom.”
*turns on heels and walks toward the back exit doors*
“Everlee, please don’t play wrecking ball with the Legos up on the table. They are too loud. If you are going to play with the Legos, put them on the carpet.”
*Everlee looks down at the giant tower she made. Contemplates something for a moment, then backhands the Legos so they crash down off of the table on to the carpet.*
“There we go, Mom. On the carpet.”
*insert my muffled curse words and fist clenching.*
*Immediately insert my prayer for forgiveness for using foul language in the house of God*
“EV! Stop screwing around, get out from under the table, and listen to the pastor!!”
*Everlee nimbly creeps out from under the table and walks over to the edge of the balcony, crayon in hand. She stares at the pastor for a few moments, then shifts her gaze to the crowd of people below.*
Oh, no. There is that crazy look in her eye. This isn’t going to be good.
*She oh so slowly lifts her arm and holds the crayon out over the ledge of the balcony then sloooowwwww gazes in my general direction. The fear of God sets in me as I immediately know what she is going to do.*
“Everlee, don’t you EVEN think about it!”
*With the speed of a dying sloth, she retracts her arm to her side, crayon still in tow, and slumps back to her activity bag, defeated*
“Mom, Jesus lives EVERYWHERE! In EVERYTHING!”
“Yes, Everlee, you are right.”
“He lives in our homes. And our cars. And in our bodies. And in our….food.”
“Yes, that’s right.”
“But Mom, if Jesus lives in our food, then we have to eat Him.”
“Uhhh…….ok?”
“And if we eat Him, then He goes in our tummies. And after He gets to our tummies, THEN where does he go?!”
*She then looks at me like this:
*Everlee leans over balcony and looks down to the blessed churchgoers below*
*GASP* “HEEYY!! YOU! HEY GIRL!!”
*Waves ecstatically at girl down below*
“Hi!!”
“Everlee, no! Be quiet!”
“SHE’S HERE! THAT’S MY FRIEND DOWN THERE!”
“Knock it off, Everlee!”
*Ev comes back and sits down next to me*
“We do not yell down the balcony during church, Ev! Who are you even waving at?”
“My friend!”
“What’s her name?”
“I don’t know”
*Pastor announces that there will be cookies served in the atrium after service. Pastor asks the RHETORICAL question: “And who doesn’t love cookies?”
Everlee yells at the top of her lungs from the highest level of the balcony:
*GASP* “I LOVE COOKIES!!!”
“Everlee, I have gotten up 100 times to tell you to be quiet. I am not going to get up again. Sit your butt down right here on the floor and play with your activity bag, I am not going to tell you again!”
“But, Mom. Getting up a lot is good for your body! It’s good EXTERCISE!”
*Everlee lies down on the floor and starts doing crunches*
“One. Two. Three. Foouuurrrrr. Fiiiiiiiiivvvveeeeee………”
*Meanwhile, while walking back to the car*
“Everlee, what did you learn at church today?”
“How to color.”
“OK…………anything ELSE?”
“No.”
………….Super.
Lord, please forgive me, for my intentions are good.
Mommy Vino 