Glutton for Punishment

If you know the words, sing along: I belong to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. I know who I am. I know God's plan. I'll follow Him in faith. I believe in the Savior Jesus Christ. I'll honor His name. I'll do what is right. I'll follow His light. His truth I will proclaim!

So, I love that song. I love to hear the Primary children sing it with the energy and enthusiasm that only Primary children have. I believe every word of it with all my heart.

But I have to say, after days like yesterday, I wonder why I keep going back. *sigh* In all honesty, Primary went well. I'm in charge of Sharing Time this month, and yesterday it went rather well for both Junior Primary and Senior Primary, even though we did NOT have a pianist (yeah, that makes such a HUGE difference in how well the kids focus and participate). It's not Primary that I'm whining about.

It's Sacrament Meeting.

Of course, we were late, because this preggo lady couldn't haul herself out of bed when she should have. So, Mark was dressed and gone before any of our children were awake. I should be able to get everyone dressed and shod and fed in an hour and a half. But somehow working with my own children is like trying to swim in molasses: it's a VERY slow, frustrating process. So, we got to Church just minutes before it started. Of course, as soon as we walked into the building, Yvette needed a diaper change. So, my children were actually on the bench before the meeting began. I walked in on the tail end of the last verse of the opening song, urging Eliza to walk faster than a leisurely waltz, and dragging Yvette on her bum by the arm because she refused to walk - and which she thought was very amusing, giggling all the way to the third row bench where we always sit. Mark was on the stand - he is conducting Sacrament Meeting this month - trying to look sympathetic.

Then Yvette spent the rest of the meeting hopping up and down the aisle, running back and forth between her daddy on the stand and the Ackman family three rows behind us. She was mostly quiet. Whenever I grabbed her and removed her from circulation, she quit being quiet and went for dramatic hysterical screaming. Of course , I promptly turned her loose. What was I going to do? Take her out in the hall and leave my other four children alone on the bench to give in to their baser instincts?

Which they did, even with me sitting there. Hyrum and Gabba couldn't stop falling over, like someone had removed their spine, or floppping like fish. "I'm tired!" they would insist, if I mentioned that we were in Sacrament Meeting, and that slumping over like a bag of flour was not good behavior. Eliza spent some time sitting on the stand by Daddy, until she was bored. Then she and Lucy crawled around under the benches.

Meanwhile, Yvy decided she was a puppy, crawling up and down the aisle, panting and whining and pawing various people. In an effort to distract her, I gave her Daddy's watch - which he had forgotten - to take to him up on the stand. She promptly put it in her mouth, and crawled all the way to him, like a good little dog would. I couldn't see her once she went up the steps, but I could see Mark's reaction: He rolled his eyes and tried not to laugh. He got his watch, but Yvy was not distracted from her puppy-ness. She crawled all the way back, at which time I pulled out my trump card: a slice of cheese (I have to keep food on hand for her, since she has yet to actually eat something for breakfast on a Sunday morning, and it is in my own best interest to prevent a hunger-induced meltdown). Her face lit up, and then she promptly dropped it on the floor in the aisle - clear view for all those behind us - and began licking it and nibbling it and whimpering like a happy little puppy.

And then Hyrum started making noise about having to go to the bathroom NOW. There were 20 minutes left on the clock. How is it that the same boy who can hold it for five hours at a time any other day can't make it the one hour and fifteen minutes through Sacrament Meeting? I refused to let him go, because I gave explicit instructions that ALL my children were to visit both the bathroom and the drinking fountain before the meeting began. He squirmed and whimpered and gave me looks of agony and torture and acted like his head was going to pop, but somehow he made it. I was pretty sure he could (I'm not that mean of a mom).

More Lucy and Eliza under the bench. More Gabba rolling around on top of the bench, complaining about being tired and telling me about each and every bug bite she had that was itching and driving her crazy, with that accusatory tone in her voice that expected me to solve it, and so on and so on. Even Squid put his two cents in from the inside.

I caught some of the talks, and what I heard was very nice. Is it OK to ask for separate pews for me and my children? Tell me why I'm going back next week. Why? Oh, yeah. Because I know. And knowing means going. Dang it. So here I go, going back. Only nine more weeks until it's SIX against ONE.