One word for you - CHURCH. What can I say - going to church with an infant certainly poses it's share of challenges. I'm really glad our church gives us the option of going to an eary 8:30 service or a later 10:30 service. With everything there is to do to get a baby ready for an outing, let alone let me run a comb through my hair before walking out the door, we always opt for the 10:30 service.
After our morning ritual of feeding, bathing, dressing, redressing after after the upchuck, we are finally off to church. Since discovering the well-baby cry room we are no longer concerned about being a few minutes late, since most everyone else using this room is late as well.
When we arrive we discover that our baby has fallen asleep. "Oh good," we foolishly think. "Maybe we can sit in the back of "big church" without being a bother!" 5 minutes after getting settled we are packing up for the cry room, where we will join a handful of other parents with loud, cranky babies.
Once we find our seats I feel comforted that MY baby will not be like any of those OTHER noisy, uncontrollable kids who are making huge disruptions. My elation ends 2.5 minutes later when my son squeals to get out of his confining car seat. I quickly unbuckle him, aware that each passing minute of unhappiness will make settling him more difficult. As I hold him in my lap with one hand, balancing burp cloth and toys in the other, I try to focus on what the preacher is saying. I hear something about turning to Luke chapter....what was it? the passage where Jesus talks of ....I'm not really sure what. After 10 minutes of holding an ever squirming child, I pass him off to his Dad. I settle back into my chair, determined to walk away with some nugget of truth from the Bible.
2 minutes later John nudges me, desperately in need of the burp cloth - orange spit-up (presumably from breakfast) was rolling down his arm. After mopping him up, I briefly hear the minister say something about Judas, betrayal, and disciples before this ear-piercing Pterodactyl-like sound filled the room. Yes, the noise was coming from MY son, the son I knew from BIRTH was NOT going to be like other "undisciplined" children. He apparently had decided that he was way too mature for toy teething rings, and making pre-historic bird sounds was more "his thing". John and I look around the room - our child was the only one making loud, obnoxious noises and arching his back, refusing to sit still. (The louder, even more obnoxious family of six had just left, to my dismay, making our little fam of three even more obvious.)
It was around this time when I heard "Amen" come from the minister...opps...was I supposed to be praying? I heave a sigh of relief - William was free to make all the noise he wanted! John puts him in his car seat as I turn to put on my coat. When I turn back to see how the buckling up was progressing I see that our little angel had re-discovered his enjoyment of the teething ring, and was quietly amusing himself with it. I smile at my son, and he flashes me his cutest, toothless grin. I feel positively happy - then I remember that in a few short hours we'll be back for the evening service, ready (hopefully!) to do it all over again!