Ok, so here is the thing. My husband just got put in the Bishopric. Just a couple weeks ago. My first thought when they called him was "We are not OLD enough for that!" But, the truth is, we are. I just turned 33. And Richard is almost 40. Did you catch that? FORTY. Yeah. In your thirties you can say you are "getting old" but once you are 40 you are officially there. Oldness. You have arrived and there is no use fooling yourself. And my baby-faced husband is almost there. So, yeah, despite the fact that age has nothing to do with the calling, he is still, definitely, old enough.
My second thought was "I'm going to be watching my kids alone in sacrament meeting." And that is about as far as my thinking went. My brain is pretty small, so I try not to work it too hard. Besides, I knew Richard would be fine, but me? ME? Would I actually be able to survive this?
Today was our big chance to find out. Today was my first chance to sit through sacrament meeting alone with my two little boys. So how did I do? I think I would have to give myself 1 & 1/2 thumbs down. And maybe a sad, slow, shake of the head.
I didn't totally fail. Harrison did not run screaming up and down the aisle (though he did scream "Go Away!" when I tried to wipe his nose). And they didn't rub Vaseline into the carpet (because I am smart enough not to take Vaseline to church. They get plenty of Vaseline time rubbing into the bathroom floor at home). So it wasn't a total loss. And we did just great for about the first 3 minutes, which I think is something I can really be proud of. But Colin is ready to start exploring with gusto as soon as we walk into the building, and after the first 3 minutes he had our 2 feet of pew pretty much figured out. So the rest of the meeting was basically a wrestling match while I tried to keep him from escaping.
Meanwhile I did what I could to keep Harrison occupied enough that he wasn't smacking his brother or throwing things around the chapel. After he started grinding cheerios into the seat I picked them all up and took them away but I couldn't find the lid and I almost started crying after I dumped them over twice in a row. I went digging around in my giant diaper bag for the lid to the stupid cheerios bowl with one hand while trying to keep Colin from throwing himself off the seat with the other hand. I found about 7 pairs of underwear. No lid. At least in an emergency I can sew the underwear together to make clothes or a blanket or tent or something. I finally gave up and dumped the cheerios straight into the diaper bag. I'm sure they'll come in handy when someone is starving one of these days.
The rest of the meeting is a blur. Probably a bunch more stuff happened, but I don't want to tell you about it because I would like you to think that I am only saying that I am a bad mom. Apparently we survived it. Me and my children are all alive which is sometimes all you can ask for. And I would like my husband to think that I totally have this thing under control, so don't tell him about the cheerios, OK?