Stake Conference, round 2

Exactly one year ago yesterday I experienced my first Stake Conference as a mother with a toddler. The results were spectacular--both in the sense of failure I felt and in the way I felt motivated to reframe the way I handle church meetings.

As the months have passed, I'd like to say I've learned a thing or two about how to keep children entertained during long hours of church meetings. We have flannel boards and story books and magnets and polly pockets. We have goldfish and fruit snacks and string cheese. We have learned the fine art of the tag team: you take her for one talk, I'll take her for the next talk. Sometimes we actually leave church meetings feeling uplifted and inspired. Ah-ha! We have done a good job!

I decided that all of that work was really in preparation for yesterday, round two of  fall Stake Conference with Lillian. Stake Conference is like the Olympics of church meetings. As such, we called in all of our preparation from the previous year and by Sunday morning (yesterday) we were so totally, awesomely ready for the event that I wanted a phone call from the IOC telling me how they expected me to win the gold medal in Motherhood, Stake Conference edition.

Not surprisingly, we rocked Stake Conference for the first hour. The gold medal was practically in my hands. I was so good, in fact, that I had two toddlers besides Lillian totally entertained for at least 30 minutes. Every time one of them looked up expectantly with their I'm done with this thing what else have you got face, I fished around in my Mary Poppins-style bag of goodies and promptly gave them the next piece of entertainment. As a result, Trent and I even listened to the talks!

About 85 minutes into the meeting, 15 minutes past the point when someone insane decided against having a rest hymn, and the two little girls I'd been entertaining were now back with their parents, Lillian got a little restless. Her cheeks got a little flushed. She started doing that crazy arch her back-slip out of my grasp-yelling thing that is so not awesome. I showed her a coloring book. She shook her head. I showed her a polly pocket princess. She shook her head. I got out a granola bar, she started to wail. So I picked her up and we went on a walk.

When we got out into the foyer, I realized why she wanted to be there. The foyer and surrounding hallways were filled with parents and toddlers. There must have been twenty or more out there. Wait just one second, I thought to myself. If this is happening now, it probably happened last year. Then I thought, Look at all these people--they must have done this last year. Then I thought, And if I'm doing it now, it probably means that (here's the most important part) stuff like this happens at Stake Conference all the time.

Somehow, in that moment, (right before Lillian almost ran outside and I ran to catch her and in doing so tripped and fell and skinned my knee and flashed about ten dads with their toddlers because I'm so awesome), I realized something incredibly important: no matter how much I prepare, Lillian is going to get tired. And just because she does, it doesn't mean I'm not a good mom. Just because I don't get to hear the last talk or two at the meeting doesn't mean our attendance was a waste. What matters is that we were there. What matters is that we tried. What matters is the state of my heart, which is pure and well-intentioned.

Well. Not bad, right? I don't even need a Gold Medal. Well. Maybe I do...