Today I went to church alone.
Jane's sick. She's got Fifth Disease and while I'm nearly 100 percent positive that she is no longer contagious, I'd hate to keep spreading it. So Lane kept both babies home while I went to church solo-meyo.
I don't want to lie: I was pretty psyched. I haven't been able to fully attend and pay attention to church in more than 2 years.
I sat in the back, inconspicuous amongst the late-comers.
And I was enjoying myself. No child using me as a rock wall. No one kicking my legs and pulling up my skirt with all their movement. No one screaming for a snack. No one screaming period. Bliss. Quiet bliss.
Half way through a late-coming family came to sit next to me. The one family there that has a girl Jane's age and a son Elliot's age. They're us ... except the mom's cuter and better put together.
Predictably, the husband scurried out 5 minutes later with a screaming 1-year-old. Three minutes later, the mother followed with their daughter.
And then I got painfully lonely. And I missed my babies that give me a reason to whine about the difficulty of having two small babies at church. And I wanted them there, climbing on me, wiping snot on my new dress, and throwing Cheerios hither and yon as we scramble to collect them.
Now if I can just recall this feeling next Sunday.
1 comment:
You are so funny! I am only recently getting the experience of all you mentioned (the Cheerios, the skirt pulling up etc.) as Lydia is now too big for her little car seat bucket and has nothing to contain her for naps or general corraling during the meetings. It is exhausting! But as soon as Derek takes her out and I can listen, all I hear is other kids crying and my head turns toward them wondering if it is Lydia somehow.
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