Seriously. It seemed like such a great idea. A really great idea. And if we could pull it off, it would be such a huge accomplishment. HUGE accomplishment.
We really should be able to make it to 1 o'clock church on time. Even early enough to actually sit on a cushioned bench. But we don't. We are late. And we sit with the overflow crowd where cheerios fly, kids scream, and Lightening McQueen casually rolls past me. I mean, we are so much better than that.
So we planned ahead. Saturday was the "get-the-work-done-day" where we cleaned the house and ironed our clothes (that song totally works). And Sunday, we were ready and out the door by 12:32pm. Enough time to actually walk and wagon ride to church. And since gas costs as much as my right hand is worth, it seemed like another good idea.
We arrived. We wisely selected the very last cushioned bench (our fat baby still requires quick getaways when he belts out a good screaming fit) and it fit our family perfectly. We each had a good 6 inches between us, with an adult at each end. The little boys were trapped. It was heaven. I took a deep breath of relief and satisfaction. We did it! We really did it!
And then Sister M. sat in front of us, turned around and said "You guys don't usually sit here! And you're even here early?!"
It all went downhill from there. And real life lessons were learned.
-We learned that there is an unofficial seating chart.
-We learned that the bench seats are reserved for the elite- people who have no more than 2 children, children 8 and older, grown children, no children... QUIET children... you get the picture.
-We learned that our little boys have little appreciation for the bench seats, and absolutely no regard for coloring quietly, let alone sitting reverently.
-We learned that Sister P. really enjoyed watching the circus show that we unintentionally were.
-We learned that Jack hates being trapped.
-We learned that it will be a LONG time before we ever enjoy Sacrament Meeting.
-We learned that we aren't any better than the overflow crowd, but that they are our kind of people, and that's where we belong.
We tried. We tried really, really hard. Best effort. Good intentions. But by 2pm, Aaron and I, at opposite ends of the bench, trying to manage 5 children (including 2 teenagers who still have yet to learn reverence) stood simultaneously, each with a screaming child in hand, and headed for the foyer. The war was over, and the parents lost.
Oh, and the walk and wagon ride back home... it was all uphill. And excruciating.
So next week we will still try to be on time. We will drive. We will promptly take our place in the overflow amongst the cheerios, patiently wait for our peeps to file in 15 minutes late, and anxiously watch for Lightening to make his appearance. Because while we are failing miserably at teaching our boys and teenagers reverence, at least we can be early to sit right where we belong.
In the name of For The Love...
p.s excuse blogger- it's not spacing like I want it to! (UGH- FTL!!!!!!)