On having 9 AM church...

There was a time in my life that I didn't really care what time church started.

Then I had a baby.

At that time, church started at 1:00 pm. For the first few months (maybe it was only weeks?) it was great. We could sleep in, leisurely eat breakfast and get ourselves ready. At church, Thomas would sleep in our arms or the car seat. Life was good. Then he started not sleeping in our arms or the car seat. Life (at church, anyway) became very complicated. Seasoned parents all around is said, "Ohhhh...1:00 church is really hard on the little guys. 9:00 AM is SO much better!". I was excited to finally experience the wonderment of 9 AM church.

Then we moved.

And guess what?

Our new church started at 1:00 pm.

After another year of enduring a cranky, nap-deprived child at 1:00 church, it was finally our turn for the coveted 9 AM time slot.

And guess what?

I've had nearly a year of 9 AM church....and I still don't think it's any better. Granted, I now have a baby that takes morning naps and (obviously) cannot take her morning nap very well on Sunday. If it were just Thomas, we'd be spreading the good news about how wonderful 9 AM church is.

Truth be told, there probably never is a good time for church when you have a napping child. Church is always going to interfere with someone's nap, whether it's your child, or the child that is antagonizing your child in nursery because they are sleep-deprived. Somebody is going to get the short end of the stick. If you have a baby that no longer naps peacefully in your arms or in the car seat, you will probably spend a good deal of church pacing the hallways, so as to limit the amount of noise your fussy child will inflict upon other churchgoers.

When my mom was a young mom, she was once out in the foyer with my oldest brother (he was barely one year old) and my sister (she was a newborn) and a man asked her, "Why do even bother coming to church when you end up sitting out here for most of it?". This upset my mom so much, she vowed right then and there to never let any excuse keep her from attending church - even if it meant spending the majority of it out in the hall with her children.

I thought about this every Sunday when Thomas was a baby, as I walked the halls with him in my arms. I think about it now when I walk with Abigail.

Did I get to sit through an entire class at all today? Nope. But I did make it to the last 5 minutes of Sunday school. I might have missed the entire lesson, but I did deduce that the class had been discussing the Book of James. I left the class thinking, "Hmmm...I should really study James when I get home". I would have missed out on that inspiration if I had chosen to just stay home today.

After Sunday school, I ended up back in the hall again with Abby. I saw her point at a picture of Jesus on the wall and smile. Shortly after, we went to pick up Thomas from nursery and he came running to me with a picture in his hand And said, "It's Jesus, Mommy!"

This is why I go to church. Never mind that Kenta was sick today and I had the kids by myself and we had three epic cheerio spills all over the pew and aisle within the span of about 30 seconds. I was where I needed to be. And even though Kenta was sick, he was super helpful getting the kids ready......even if he didn't exactly know how a cardigan is supposed to be worn. And Thomas looked dapper, as usual, because his daddy always ties his ties with the utmost care:
I thought we'd try and get a group shot, but things got out of hand(don't know what's with the creepy baby cataracts...maybe my lens is dirty?)
really quickly
Maybe next Sunday?

Tough decisions

After an epic battle between Thomas and I over sitting on the potty, I was trying to decide whether or not to a) skip Thomas's nap so he would go poop in the potty or b) take a risk and put Thomas down without him pooping first. (sorry about the poop talk - if you've potty trained a kid, you know it can be a huge obstacle in pt-ing, if you haven't potty trained a kid....just you wait! MWHAHAHAHAHA). Anyway, I couldn't make up my mind what I wanted to do because what I REALLY wanted him to do was just go poop in the dang potty, but obviously, I couldn't force that. So while I was stewing in the kitchen and Thomas was stewing in the living room, I noticed that it had become eerily quiet from his end of the house. Uh, oh. Alarm bells were ringing. Silent children are never up to any good. I dropped what I was doing and ran into the living room and this is what I found:

I immediately forgot how frustrated I was with him and remembered the last time Thomas fell asleep like this:

Thomas, July 2010

Coincidentally, this also occurred after a tantrum.

So, thank you to my adorable son for making a tough decision easier for me today by making the decision himself.

That said, my fingers, toes, and eyes are crossed that I won't find any unpleasant surprises in his bed when he wakes up.

It's only taken him 8 months...

...but Thomas has FINALLY figured out how to get his little digits properly arranged in response to the oft asked question, "How old are you?"



It seems like a very small accomplishment, but we're all about celebrating the little things around here. We've endured months and months and months of guiding his little fingers into their proper position...only to have him let his thumb go loose and straighten out his ring finger and pinky. It always looked like he was telling people he was five years old (instead of two).



His little fingers are getting tired of me trying to take a good picture.

To save ourselves the trouble of having to explain that Thomas really isn't five (or two, since we FINALLY got that one figured out), we've been thinking ahead to the next birthday:



You'd think he'd be happy to mug for the cameras and show off his new skillz. Ha! Do something that I request him to do? NEVER! Luckily, I'm not opposed to marshmallow bribes.

I might have stuffed this in his mouth while he was throwing a fit. Also, please enjoy the sticker that he had Kenta tape to his left hand.

I suppose I'd be a little resistant, too, if my mom kept letting the flash go off in my face.

Conversations with Thomas

This morning while I was getting the kids dressed, I paused what I was doing to rub my eyes a bit (you'd rub your eyes a lot too, if your baby was waking up at 5:00 a.m.). Apparently this concerned Thomas and the following conversation ensued:

T - Mommy, are you sad?

K - Nope. Just rubbing my eyes.

T - Are you happy?

K - Yes, I am. Are you happy?

T - Yeah!

K - Why are you happy?

T-Because I'm not sad!

Ahhhh....the joys of a simple life. To need nothing more than the absence of sadness to declare oneself to be happy! No wonder Christ told us to become more like little children.