Just Another Sunday Service

Tonight is the special service at church. All year our kids have been involved in Word Of Life on Wednesday nights there and tonight is the big Award Ceremony. It’s the night when all the kids get awarded for their quiet times, verse memorization, community service etc.

I have helped teach the Gopher Buddies this year for the first time. Sons 3 and 4 are in that class so it was a good fit. Crazy, hectic, busy but good.

Today we had a crazy, hectic but good day. We arrived to this special evening four minutes before the service began after a day of field work, church, teaching JR church, dinner my husband’s parents home, visit with one of my husband’s very best friends and then a super fast quick change of clothes for the two oldest and my husband (there was exactly enough time for me to quick pee and then drink a glass of water, literally) and then race (literally) to church.

As usual, it was my boys that were acting up in the Gopher line. They thought they got to use the microphone – I can only imagine what that would have been like – and they could hang out on the stage the whole service. They did not.

We were sitting there, filling out two pews with all the kids and I was busy trying to keep them from waving their certificate papers all around. Much easier said then done.

My good friend, R.C. was in front of me with the other half of the class. One of the oldest couples in our church, people I have a high respect for and always just seem so very dignified, was sitting directly behind me.

Most of the time everyone is clapping for the kids and their accomplishments; but in one very rare quiet moment Son 4 decided to say to me “Moma, I smell guck.” Thankfully, he didn’t say it loud because S4 is the one who has no indoor voice. At all. But he does like to whisper, although loudly,and he did whisper this to me.

Thinking he may have thought he needed to go potty because he hadn’t for awhile, I realized, I tried to figure our best exit route as we were in the middle of the pew and I made a fatal mistake.

I asked him what he thought smelled bad.

“Ummmmm, I think it’s you, Moma,” he told me very matter of factly.

It was not me, I assure you all.

I seen RC’s shoulders shake and knew this just wasn’t going to be good. She did manage to gain her composure a bit, and then she turned and said “Do you think your Moma smells like guck?”

S4 nodded in agreement.

Let the ground swallow me up!

When we got home, as I was undressing him to put on his jammies, I took off his boots – water/barn/swamp boots, the ones my boys were nearly all the time, obviously, since they were worn to church – I noticed how terrible his toes looked. “What is in your boots?” I asked.

“Mud.” He shrugged.

But it wasn’t mud at all. It was dog poop, in between all his toes on both feet and on the hem of his dark pants too.

He immediately was placed in a bubble bath. His boots are soaking outside on the porch.

And I immediately called RC, who giggled as only a good friend can, because she knew it wasn’t me, and yet always she will tease me about this, I’m sure.

What I don’t get though, is that I didn’t even smell it. As if I am so used to the smell of boys and farm life and ‘guck’ it didn’t even register on my radar. How sad is that? I am so cleaning my house this week and making it smell like lilacs from the bushes out back. Somehow. After many pots of coffee, I am sure.

Yup, just another Sunday night with my boys.