God Laughed, But Mary Understood

I’ve documented a few of our attempts to go to church with L.J. To be honest, there haven’t been many attempts because most of them have been a disaster in one way or another.

I gave it another shot this weekend. Mike opted to stay home to avoid the frustration and embarrassment, and I can’t blame him. I thought that perhaps using the church cry room would be a step in the right direction, so we drove farther away to a church that had one.

At first I was feeling pretty proud of myself and my decision. Pride goes before the fall, right? He did reasonably well since he wasn’t confined to one spot. Relatively quiet and relatively stationary. I was actually able to pay attention. Things were going well-ish for three-quarters of the Mass.

Shortly before communion L.J. decided to see what was going on in the other pews. A few rows back he found the Mother Lode – a little girl about his age had quite a few interesting toys spread out. L.J. did not take kindly to being told that those were not his toys and he could not play with him.

We walked out into the hall to calm down, except L.J. thought that meant we were leaving that boring room and going bye-bye. Not so much kiddo. There were a couple other little ones toddling quietly around the narthex. My son? He was the one throwing a fit because I wouldn’t allow him to take a toy car away from another little boy. He was not interested in hearing (again…) my character lesson on sharing.

Communion was about to start, so we went back into the cry room and the communion lady came in. I carried L.J. up and managed to receive communion despite the fact that he was waving his arms like an octopus trying to get ahold of the host.

I went back to my seat somewhat red-faced and sat down. L.J. shot off like a rocket, covering the seven feet between us and the communion lady in about one second. Screaming and arms outstretched – he wanted a “cracker” like everyone else. I quickly grabbed him and exited the room, thoroughly mortified.

I stepped to the side of the hall and told him sternly that his behavior was not acceptable and that he was not being respectful or reverent. He glared at me and started squirming, so I set him down thinking that would calm him.

Nope, he thought we were leaving again. When I indicated otherwise he threw himself face-down in the hall, conveniently right as the priest for the next Mass walked by. Well, actually he didn’t walk by. He had to step around L.J. to get to the sacristy. Just in case I wasn’t embarrassed enough by that point. Mercifully, he smiled at me and gave me a sympathetic look.

The same cannot be said for the communion lady. When she came out of the cry room I apologized for L.J.’s behavior and she responded by glaring at me.

Ok lady. First of all, you’re holding Jesus! Nice attitude. Second of all, he’s a baby! He doesn’t know any better.

So yeah. Church. We work very hard to teach L.J. how to behave and discipline when necessary. Yet we go to church and I feel like we look like the family that has zero control over their children. It is beyond embarrassing.

I’m running out of ideas. Actually, no, I’m out of ideas at this point. I’m open to any and all suggestions! (Note: He has too much separation anxiety right now for the nursery to be an option.)