Monday, June 25, 2012

Adventures in Churching

Until yesterday, Jack hadn't spat up in months.

Okay, that might not be entirely true, but it has felt like it.

He was never a big spitter-upper, but even the little bits here and there were not missed when they went away.

Until yesterday.

Yesterday we, being the good Mormons we are, went to church.  Throughout our first meeting - Sacrament Meeting - Jack acted like he had bees in his head.  He wanted to be held.  No, he wanted to be put on the ground.  Just kidding, he wanted to be held.  He tried to eat the tissues someone left under our pew (yuck).  He ripped some hairs out of the head of the little girl sitting behind us.  Twice.  He stuffed handfuls of puffs in his mouth.  He threw handfuls of puffs on the floor.  He tried to eat the program.  He tried to escape.  Again and again and again.

The only redeeming thing about this behavior was that he was pretty quiet.  Which is weird for him.

This look of innocence is just a ruse.

Lewis took him to the back to crawl around and let out some energy.  Didn't work.  I took him to the mothers' lounge to nurse him and try and calm him down.  Didn't work.  Finally I just took him to the foyer and let him go nuts while I listened the rest of the meeting on the speakers.

I let Jack be until he tried to climb into another baby's car seat - with the other baby still in it.  I'm sure he just wanted to grab her face and give her kisses, but still.  Car seats are not made for two.

So I picked him up and hauled him over to the chair I was sitting in, hoping to distract him with one of his toys (and when I say "toys," I really mean recycled garbage that he likes better than any of his actual toys).  Suddenly I felt something warm in my lap.  Crud, I thought.  He peed on me.

I immediately snatched him from my lap to see how wet he was.  Much to my surprise, he was not wet at all.  But he was laughing hysterically.  I looked down at my lap and discovered a lovely white pool of spit up, splattered all over my skirt.


My first thought was to grab my phone and text Lewis to come save the day.  But of course I had left my phone - and everything else - with Lewis in the chapel.

Did I mention we were sitting in the front?  Yep.  Fourth row.

By this point the spit up had soaked into my clothing enough that I was not in any danger of getting in on the church floor (it had also cooled off considerably) so I just held Jack in front of me and made my way back to our pew.  As soon as we arrived, I deposited Jack in Lewis' lap and hissed at him to get me the keys and my church bag.  I held my bag in front of me and hightailed it out of there.

Thank GOODNESS we live so close to our church.  I was back home in no time at all.  My plan was to just put on a different skirt and hope no one noticed, but of course Jack had managed to get some grossness on my blouse as well.  It would have to be an different outfit entirely.  I changed quickly and was soon on my way back.

While I was walking I remembered that Lewis had been asked to say the closing prayer.  Great.  If I didn't make it back in time, he would have to take Jack with him and everyone would probably hear less praying and more Jack grabbing the microphone, trying to eat it, and then growling into it.

As soon as I walked into the building, I heard the closing song playing.  Excellent, I had made it.  I speed walked into the chapel and all the way to the front.  As soon as my bum hit the bench the song ended and Lewis stood up to pray.  Perfect timing!  And with any luck no one noticed that I had changed outfits.

No such luck.  Right after the he finished the prayer, the second counselor in our bishopric asked him if Jack had peed on me.

And then our neighbor and I had a good laugh about how perfect my timing was in getting back right before the prayer (Lewis had arranged with the people behind us to hold on to Jack in case I didn't make it, but still).

Pretty much, everyone knew something was up.

Stinking kid.

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