As per most holidays, we went home to Mobile to spend the weekend with our families. We had our celebration on Saturday, as it was the only day everyone's schedules would allow. We had the whole fam over and enjoyed an Easter Egg Hunt and early afternoon dinner. So, this left Sunday open for everyone to kind of do their own thing.
Well, in true CEO Catholic fashion, I decided to take my 14 month old toddler to Easter Mass with my sister. I dressed her in her Sunday best, put on my most springish dress, and headed straight for the St. Dominic's cry room. If your church doesn't have a cry room, I'll explain it now. It's basically exactly what it sound likes. It's a small room in the back of the church with an all-window front, where parents can bring their small babies - and less-than-perfect small children - and still enjoy the mass without the paranoia that everyone is staring at your kid who is asking "WHEN IS IT OOOOOOVER?!" every five minutes in their outside voice.
Knowing my squirmy girl, I warned my sister that we weren't even going to attempt to sit in the normal pews, but that she was welcome to abandon us for the quieter life if she wanted to. She said it was no problem, so 30 minutes ahead of time we found our place in the front of the room and started our mission.
I had packed the variable arsenal of things needed to distract my daughter into behaving - books, toys, puffs, water.I marveled at how well we had started off. She was curious enough about her surroundings to be content being held so she could look around, but that soon changed. As more and more children began to flood into the small room, I could feel her getting anxious. My stress levels started to rise as she began her inevitable "Noodling" process. Her body goes surprisingly limp and it gets increasingly harder to get a grip on her. I knew I had but one chance to stop it before she got out of control, so I started with the least messy option. Murray. Murray is the lamb she got for Easter, and yes, I named it Murray. Because every time I saw it, I couldn't stop singing the Murray has a little lamb theme song from Sesame Street.
Murray was quickly tossed to the ground in defiance, so we moved on to books. Another fail, I was getting desperate. I knew what I had to do. I planted her squarely on her bottom on the pew, and gave her the one thing that works every time. The Snack Cup.
Here's what I DON'T like about the snack cup. Sure, it's spill proof, but that doesn't mean she won't drop it 1 million times, nor does it's mean that it's contents won't turn her in a puffs dust covered sticky monster. However, it is my only salvation for most trips with her. The snack cup worked it's magic for a while, but about halfway through the service, she had decidedly had enough. She wanted to explore. To walk around. To take things from other children like Attila the Hun.
This is when we made our first exit. I took her out into the main entrance hall to see the stained glass windows, where I quickly discovered I was not alone. One frustrated dad was going back and forth with each of his 6 child brood in hand, and at one point looked at me and said "Yours is so good!"
Is she? Because she's driving me bananas. But I guess in his mind, at least I wasn't dealing with an army. At this point we were pretty close to the Communion part of the service, which is basically the Thursday of a Mass. Very close to the end, but you're not quite there yet. Knowing the room would be considerably emptier as each parent took turns going to receive communion, we headed back in.
Ah, a few moments peace. The room felt considerably larger, and I was once again lulled into a false sense of security that we could get through this. Then all of the children returned. All at once. And like a band of apes that had just figured out that the hierarchy has shifted, they all started to go crazy. I looked at my phone. 9:53. Fifty three minutes is how long it takes for all children to be completely over Easter Mass. But we still had some left! It was only Thursday!
But then I discovered the secret that most Catholic parents would likely not admit. They leave after communion. They give up the battle, and concede to the tiny little warriors, because after that - everyone is exhausted.
And all I could think was, "I can't do this every Sunday."
So bravo, Catholic parents. Bravo, anyone who attends church every Sunday with their children in tow, knowing their particular church doesn't provide a nursery.
As for me, a nursery service has moved to the number one spot on my list of potential church needs if we ever start looking. At least until I can threaten her with "Santa is watching!" and she will actually listen.
Love,
Dominique
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