Church with Kids… Sigh. (Sunday Musings)

Schizz and I were both raised Catholic and we [try our darndest to] attend Mass on a semi-regular basis with our kids. Growing up, I had friends of other faiths and I was always impressed with how they would often have their faith’s version of CCD/Faith Formation/Sunday School while their faith’s version of Mass was actually happening. Isn’t it genius? Teach the kids something on their level to increase understanding and allow the parents to attend to Mass without interruption. I’m even more impressed with this as a parent of three little kids. It makes a lot of sense for a lot of reasons but my church growing up never did this and, until veeeery recently, neither did our current church.

 

So, until recently, Schizz and I would scramble to get our little poppies to Mass on time, and then we’d struggle to keep them quiet(ish) and entertained(ish), all the while struggling to attend to and process what was actually happening at Mass. You know, the whole reason why we were there in the first place.

 

What this looked like, in a nutshell, was this: Schizz and I carrying, coaxing, and sometimes sort-of dragging our three kiddos into the church, armed with a bag of library books, some crayons and paper, and a Magic Eraser (I’m totally not kidding on that last one- there was once a pen to pew incident). Schizz and I would quietly enter and quickly select the most strategic seating arrangement (read: close to the exit for when, not if, we needed a quick child-induced exit). Our children, on the other hand, would ignore our “quiet voice” warnings and enter the church chattering at their normal volume (Leo’s volume is always loud), often making embarrassing comments for all of the church-goers – who were now all looking at us- to hear.

At this point I have to take a moment to relay a quick story, because it’s pretty damn funny. One year, Schizz and I wanted to attend Mass on Easter morning as a family (the holiest day of the year in our faith). Well, the previous year didn’t go smoothly and I will spare you the details, suffice to say that we were very hesitant to attempt Easter Sunday Mass again. We felt supremely guilty (I’m sure you’ve all heard of Catholic guilt– it’s a very real thing and it will get you every time!). After much hemming and hawing, we compromised and decided we would watch the Easter Vigil on the television, with our children, in the comfort of our own family room. This was before Leo was terrified of TV so I’m guessing he was two years old at the time, just for reference. Well, we were all seated on the couch and it was actually quite nice because we could pause the television to answer a Mass-related question without disrupting our neighbors or missing some of the Mass. Anyway, at the very beginning of the Easter Vigil, the camera panned to the altar and Jesus on the cross. At that moment, Leo stood up and started jumping, pointing to the television and shouting at the top of his little lungs, “LOOK! JESUS HAS NIPPLES! JESUS HAS NIPPLES JUST LIKE ME!!!!”  In that moment, as Schizz and I simultaneously imagined how that moment would have played out in our actual church on the holiest day of the year, we made eye contact with a look of complete understanding: Catholic guilt or no, we had made the right choice for our family that year. And we actually had a really awesome discussion about Jesus and his nipples, but I promised to not get all crazy-religious on you so I’ll stop right there.

Okay, back to the present day… You know how I just wrote that post for Hoagies’ on self-care? Let’s just say that I feel like I need ALL of those things after I leave Mass with my little poppies. I actually feel like I’ve been through a war, and I totally understand why my parents sent my brothers and I to Catholic elementary school but didn’t bring us to Mass all that often.

 

Well, this morning was a tougher-than-usual-Mass because not only have we not been in a while due to illness and vacations, but it was also a Faith Formation morning. So Leo needed to contain himself for an hour during Mass and then another hour for Faith Formation. Leo is a kid who cannot sit still for five minutes, so two hours is torture for all involved. Plus, our church recently started pulling the kids for part of the Mass so that they can read a story on their level while the parents can sit quietly and listen to Father. This is a wonderful idea that I am excited about, but today was our first day experiencing it and Leo did not enjoy this new twist. T and Seuss happily attended the children’s portion of the Mass and sat quietly for the story and discussion. Leo? He stood in the entryway to the church refusing to go with the other children. “You can’t make me!!” he yelled, with a scowl. I tried talking, I tried coaxing, I may have bribed him with the promise of Halloween candy after church, and – finally- I had to under-arm him in and stay for the story while he shot daggers at me and sighed dramatically every twenty seconds. It was Jesus-nipples level embarrassing and not at all relaxing. Talk about asynchronous development!

 

When we returned to the church and to Schizz (lucky duck missed out on the drama), Leo refused to sit on the pew and instead sat on the kneeler, glowering, while Seuss proceeded to climb on me. At one point, Seuss slapped a sticker on my eye while I was attempting to pray. The sticker got stuck to my lashes causing him to belly laugh loudly when I attempted removal. He also banged his noggin on the pew on two occasions, which resulted in wailing, so I had two child-induced emergency exits. And then I had Faith Formation. Leo upped the whining and the speaking volume.“When will we go hoooooooome?” “When will I get more snaaaaack?” At one point, we were supposed to be praying together and I heard Leo humming Frozen so I turned to tell him to shush and — I kid you not– he was looking at me like this:

I’m telling you, church with kids is not easy. Church with an energetic, easily bored, not especially cooperative, twice-exceptional child borders on torture. I keep waiting for him to mature a bit, to calm down a bit, to use his indoor voice more often. Someday we will get there, but I have a feeling it’s going to take more time, a sense of humor, and a lot of patience when we have those “Jesus has nipples” moments.

Do you know what helps? Kindness and understanding. When we were leaving church, heading toward Faith Formation, as Leo was whining, “I don’t want to goooooo! I want to have a piece of caaaaaandy!!!” a sweet elderly woman came up to me and tugged on my shirt. I turned and she smiled and said, “I always see you in church and you have a very sweet family. You are doing a great job. I raised three boys and I promise you: it gets easier.” Talk about an act of pure kindness. I was instantly reminded of a blog post that was circulating this time last year, which I shared with the moms in my church playgroup, and it prompted my post today. If you can relate to anything I shared here today, I invite you to take a moment to read it.

So, yes, Schizz and I are raising our little poppies Catholic but, more importantly, we are raising them to be unique and interesting and kind – like the little old lady who was kind to us just a few hours ago. Down the road, we won’t care who they pray to or who they vote for as long as they are kind.

And that’s my NaBloPoMo Sunday post. I’ll now get back to my regularly scheduled programming– you know, the not religious stuff. If you got this far, thanks for reading. If you have a “Jesus has nipples” moment to share, I’d love to hear it (and I’m not going to lie, it will make me feel better!). Please share it here! I hope you had a great weekend!

Since originally posting this, I did find a book that helps us behave in church a wee bit better, The Action Bible:

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~Mahatma Gandhi

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