The Sabbath Day dawned glorious. Little son crawled into bed with me upon hearing the garage door shutting, signifying that the husband had left for early morning meetings, and knowing that the spot to my left had been vacated. Little son was confident he could occupy that space and excel at launching leg and limb into my side and face. He did a grand job. I was glad to have him as a barnacle for the last 30 minutes of my heretofore peaceful slumber.
As I readied myself and the children for church, I was ecstatic to find that my hair was behaving wonderfully and even found myself gazing blissfully into the looking glass, realizing that this could be that often elusive "good hair day." The planets had aligned. It was a good hair day. I was even able to tease my bangs into submission, sweeping them to the side and securing them with just the perfect amount of hairspray- ensuring that they would stay put and leave my eyes alone on this day- something that HARDLY EVER HAPPENS. What more can one ask for?
I skipped triumphantly down the stairs and herded the children into their proper positions in the car, escorted the canine to her kennel and pulled out of the driveway- ready for spiritual feasting.
We arrived at church on time- even early- and took our places, listening to the prelude music and greeting our fellow ward members. Still beaming from the pride I felt in my most cooperative tresses, I scooped little son up onto my lap as the services began. No sooner had I done this then little son, as if in slow motion, raised his arm and balled his little fist, directing it towards my bangs. His fist of doom performed a noogie right there on my perfectly coiffed bangs, separating the web of hairspray so delicately applied not even an hour before. Noooooooooooooooooo! (uttered in slow motion) Oh, the horror! Immediately those bangs sagged into my eyes. And for the rest of the church services I was compelled to move them to the side, over and over, using my hand or, alternately, the side head shake that would perform the task when my hands were occupied with essential tasks such as folding paper fans out of the program or peeling the paper from the tips of well-used crayons.
I resigned myself to a bang-in-the-eye meeting and continued listening to the speaker. Soon little son tired of being perched on my lap and slid down- and in the process, the Velcro (did you know Velcro must be captitalized? It must, according to the spell checker.) on the pocket of his pants caught on my skirt and pulled a little village of threads loose, thus blurring the floral arrangement pattern as multiple threads slid out of place and hung suspended from their original position in the weave of my raiment. Oh, how I don't love it when that happens.
Soon I was able to usher the children to Primary and nursery classes and the rest of the meetings proceeded without incident.
I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that we should all wear sweats and baseball caps to church meetings in order to protect ourselves from our children. Will someone second this motion?
In other news: I am feeling the beginnings of a newly ingrown toenail- the big toe on my left foot. The toe just to the right of the toe that had issues last month. So, you know the drill, I need proper sympathy and attention for help and healing of this malady.
As I readied myself and the children for church, I was ecstatic to find that my hair was behaving wonderfully and even found myself gazing blissfully into the looking glass, realizing that this could be that often elusive "good hair day." The planets had aligned. It was a good hair day. I was even able to tease my bangs into submission, sweeping them to the side and securing them with just the perfect amount of hairspray- ensuring that they would stay put and leave my eyes alone on this day- something that HARDLY EVER HAPPENS. What more can one ask for?
I skipped triumphantly down the stairs and herded the children into their proper positions in the car, escorted the canine to her kennel and pulled out of the driveway- ready for spiritual feasting.
We arrived at church on time- even early- and took our places, listening to the prelude music and greeting our fellow ward members. Still beaming from the pride I felt in my most cooperative tresses, I scooped little son up onto my lap as the services began. No sooner had I done this then little son, as if in slow motion, raised his arm and balled his little fist, directing it towards my bangs. His fist of doom performed a noogie right there on my perfectly coiffed bangs, separating the web of hairspray so delicately applied not even an hour before. Noooooooooooooooooo! (uttered in slow motion) Oh, the horror! Immediately those bangs sagged into my eyes. And for the rest of the church services I was compelled to move them to the side, over and over, using my hand or, alternately, the side head shake that would perform the task when my hands were occupied with essential tasks such as folding paper fans out of the program or peeling the paper from the tips of well-used crayons.
I resigned myself to a bang-in-the-eye meeting and continued listening to the speaker. Soon little son tired of being perched on my lap and slid down- and in the process, the Velcro (did you know Velcro must be captitalized? It must, according to the spell checker.) on the pocket of his pants caught on my skirt and pulled a little village of threads loose, thus blurring the floral arrangement pattern as multiple threads slid out of place and hung suspended from their original position in the weave of my raiment. Oh, how I don't love it when that happens.
Soon I was able to usher the children to Primary and nursery classes and the rest of the meetings proceeded without incident.
I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that we should all wear sweats and baseball caps to church meetings in order to protect ourselves from our children. Will someone second this motion?
In other news: I am feeling the beginnings of a newly ingrown toenail- the big toe on my left foot. The toe just to the right of the toe that had issues last month. So, you know the drill, I need proper sympathy and attention for help and healing of this malady.
My wish for you this day is perfectly formed and hairsprayed bangs (if you have any), skirts without blemish and toes with nails that know where they may grow and stay away from where they may not.
9 comments:
Oh the sacrifices we go through that our children never even know about, much less appreciate! You're a good mom! Keep loving those cuties!
Oh the trials that are ours when mothering small children!(Especially on Sundays)
May the Toe Gods be with you!
Velcro is a brand name - the generic title is hook and loop tape. Alex's shoes used to catch on my clothes - the worst being the day I decided to please my mother and wear pantyhose. They were destroyed. I suggest extra hard kisses for the little boy with the loose fists. Better luck next Sunday!
I totally agree. Sweats should be acceptable church outfit for Moms with young children :-) I'm glad I'm past that stage. Although I had just as bad of a bang-Sunday as you except the opposite problem, my hair-lady cut my bangs too short---arrrrgh!
You are so funny!!!! :-)
I was noticing you hair on Sunday at church and how long its getting. I thought you looked great, I didn't even notice your floppy bangs. I hope your toe cooperates better than the last one, so you don't have to get it removed.
At least you had time to fix yourself for church. We were almost late because in the process of feeding, cleaning and clothing everyone else I hadn't even had a potty break or gotten dressed with mere minutes to go before the meeting started. Everyone was content to wait for me in the car. Upon my arrival I did a spot check and realized that the prepared bottle was still in the fridge and the pacifier was on the counter...two things we must have for a successful 3 hours...back I go tromping up the stairs to retrieve the missing items. Sometimes I feel like my brain is going to explode with all the follow up and details that run through my head on a minute to minute basis. Even with me spending hours the night before to make sure the coolest books and crayons were in the "Sunday bag" and that each had clothing pressed and pulled out I still struggle. Thank goodness I don't have bangs to deal with:) I would much rather stay in my comfy clothes too. I think that the Velcro incident explains my weak Sunday wardrobe.
Oh, I can relate and beleive me that in due time you will get pay-back when they are grown and have babes of their own! I love it. I just love it! Now the toe is another matter...that really hurts. Mother it.
laaf mom
Don't we all love Sundays and little kids. Good luck with the toe. We missed you guys at the reunion! Let us know next time you are up this way (at least in UT).
I remember watching a lady in our ward several years ago, who always wore silk blouses and she had small children and a baby. I could not figure out how she did that, because everything I wore had drool, crakers and who knows what all over it by the time our meetings were over.
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