Liz and the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad...
Today was Stake Conference. Trent was part of the program, and the Stake Center is 30 minutes away. We hustled out the door at 9 a.m. and made it in time (I thought) to get the soft cushy seats up front for great view for Trent's oboe performance and some good old nurturing of the Good Word.
Then I remembered that we have a 14 month old. I remembered that perhaps it would not be wise to have that 14 month old bouncing up and down, crawling over and under, and screaming (because she's in that screaming phase, that one where she likes to exercise her voice at high and progressively louder pitches for no reason other than she seems to like the sound). As I hustled in toward the front of the chapel I remembered that it wouldn't be the best spot for us.
Somehow, going to the back made me feel sad. Maybe because I knew that our days of sitting on the cushy chairs were over.
But our friends were sitting in the back with their four children. I brightened at that thought and moved toward the back, the middle of the gym, actually, on the hard chairs--you know, those chairs that sorta make your bum go numb about 10 minutes into the meeting?
We plopped down. I pulled out the yogurt I had originally planned to feed to Lillian on the car ride over. I figured that it couldn't hurt much to eat the yogurt now. It could keep Lillian entertained and fed. So I opened the yogurt. She had 3 bites and was done. Under the chair went the yogurt. That becomes an important detail for later on in the story.
The meeting began. Lillian began wriggling. In all her wriggling, she also began tripping on the rows of chairs. 5 minutes into the meeting she was wailing. I tried again with the yogurt. It didn't go over so well. Back under the chair went the open cup of Key Lime Yoplait. At that point I realized we had lost her sippy cup in the process of walking into the building. I put Lillian on my lap. She wriggled and writhed until I successfully flashed the rear quarter of the audience.
I began to notice those sitting around us. The family to the side of us had one little girl, a 5 month old who was sleeping peacefully in her car seat. The family in front had two little boys. One little boy was coloring diligently. The other little boy was working hard with his mom on brilliant flashboard games which clearly had been created for events just like these. The family behind us had created cool magnet boards that kept the 3 boys soundlessly entertained.
I had some yogurt, a book, and a baby rattle.
This is the part in the story when I began to feel pretty awesome.
Okay, no, not really. This is the part in the story where the ineptitude I sometimes feel threatening to wash over me in waves just went ahead and crashed on my head like a giant tidal wave.
33 years single, 10 years teaching high school, 6+ years of university education...and never once did I pause to learn how to thread a bobbin on a sewing machine, make a flannel board story, or read up on baby literature.
How is it that my 15+ years of prior experience were fabulous preparation for everything BUT motherhood? Why does it feel at times like the woman I strove so hard to become learned a ton of great qualities and skills except the ones that seem to be important right now?
I can talk to you about the rhetorical patterns of 19th century Gothic Literature, but I can't sew a hem on a darned thing. I can give you awesome dating tips but I don't know how to pack snacks for Stake Conference.
Sigh.
The small boys in front of us were zooming racer cars on the metal chairs so loudly that I couldn't hear the one talk I had hoped would give me a spiritual boost. The yoplait splattered on the wood floor and Trent mopped it up. I gazed out the window on the way home, feeling a bit blue.
A terrible horrible no good very bad Stake Conference.
Some days are like that, even in New York.
Then I remembered that we have a 14 month old. I remembered that perhaps it would not be wise to have that 14 month old bouncing up and down, crawling over and under, and screaming (because she's in that screaming phase, that one where she likes to exercise her voice at high and progressively louder pitches for no reason other than she seems to like the sound). As I hustled in toward the front of the chapel I remembered that it wouldn't be the best spot for us.
Somehow, going to the back made me feel sad. Maybe because I knew that our days of sitting on the cushy chairs were over.
But our friends were sitting in the back with their four children. I brightened at that thought and moved toward the back, the middle of the gym, actually, on the hard chairs--you know, those chairs that sorta make your bum go numb about 10 minutes into the meeting?
We plopped down. I pulled out the yogurt I had originally planned to feed to Lillian on the car ride over. I figured that it couldn't hurt much to eat the yogurt now. It could keep Lillian entertained and fed. So I opened the yogurt. She had 3 bites and was done. Under the chair went the yogurt. That becomes an important detail for later on in the story.
The meeting began. Lillian began wriggling. In all her wriggling, she also began tripping on the rows of chairs. 5 minutes into the meeting she was wailing. I tried again with the yogurt. It didn't go over so well. Back under the chair went the open cup of Key Lime Yoplait. At that point I realized we had lost her sippy cup in the process of walking into the building. I put Lillian on my lap. She wriggled and writhed until I successfully flashed the rear quarter of the audience.
I began to notice those sitting around us. The family to the side of us had one little girl, a 5 month old who was sleeping peacefully in her car seat. The family in front had two little boys. One little boy was coloring diligently. The other little boy was working hard with his mom on brilliant flashboard games which clearly had been created for events just like these. The family behind us had created cool magnet boards that kept the 3 boys soundlessly entertained.
I had some yogurt, a book, and a baby rattle.
This is the part in the story when I began to feel pretty awesome.
Okay, no, not really. This is the part in the story where the ineptitude I sometimes feel threatening to wash over me in waves just went ahead and crashed on my head like a giant tidal wave.
33 years single, 10 years teaching high school, 6+ years of university education...and never once did I pause to learn how to thread a bobbin on a sewing machine, make a flannel board story, or read up on baby literature.
How is it that my 15+ years of prior experience were fabulous preparation for everything BUT motherhood? Why does it feel at times like the woman I strove so hard to become learned a ton of great qualities and skills except the ones that seem to be important right now?
I can talk to you about the rhetorical patterns of 19th century Gothic Literature, but I can't sew a hem on a darned thing. I can give you awesome dating tips but I don't know how to pack snacks for Stake Conference.
Sigh.
The small boys in front of us were zooming racer cars on the metal chairs so loudly that I couldn't hear the one talk I had hoped would give me a spiritual boost. The yoplait splattered on the wood floor and Trent mopped it up. I gazed out the window on the way home, feeling a bit blue.
A terrible horrible no good very bad Stake Conference.
Some days are like that, even in New York.
Comments
Today during sacrament Ella took off her shoes and socks and threw them, drew with crayon on the hardwood floors (because we were in the back, on the hard chairs, of course), chatted during the prayers and grabbed a handful of bread when the sacrament was passed. She fought with her brother, kicked her sister, and effectively wreaked havoc through the entire meeting. I literally dumped her off in nursery and passed the next two hours in blissful peace.
I guess what I'm saying is, don't beat yourself up too much. You're a good momma. You made it there, didn't you? And on time, to boot! That's what's most important. Like Elder Bednar said, "Be consistent". It's the only parenting tip you'll ever really need.
B. Don't compare yourself with others!!!
C. I'm glad you shared your story of woe--I find that I am so encouraged by others' weaknessess as well as their strengths.
D. I love Alexander.
E. Keep trying--one day your Lillian will be the quiet one and another mother will wonder why her kid is so difficult.
F. Your days of sitting in the cushy chairs are NOT over--I highly recommend heading for them at every opportunity--kids sit more quietly at the front--I don't know why, but they do. And even if you don't get to church in time for the cushy chairs for a season, eventually she will be old enough to control her hands and her voice voluntarily (and it will happen so quickly!).
G. Hang in there! You're terrific!
Anaise is right--comparison is not good and it always gets me in trouble. Yet, as the yogurt splattered it was difficult not to see that we were the only ones with yoplait smeared on us, you know?
(Would you believe me if I told you I brought a mini dvd player once to conference? oh yes I did.)
I must admit that kids being crazy at church makes it all the better! A while ago my niece, who is 3, decided to say hello or rather yell at my nephew who was on the stand for the primary program. The problem, she did it during a moment of silence, said his name repeated (which is Axel), however the poor kid can't say her x's and they sound like an S followed by and "ohl" sound....you get the picture. She kept saying it louder as my brother hauled her out for "swearing" loudly so her brother would wave at her...LOL:)
wj