Why We Are a Memorable Family

I could have titled this "Why No One Wants To Sit With Us At Church", but the other title sounds nicer, don't you think?

I mean....we are memorable, right?

We woke up late Sunday, which isn't really abnormal on a Sunday for us (our one day off, really, as a family) and when Hubs decided we would skip Sunday School I went into overdrive and quickly threw together a dinner to cook while we were in church so when we got home, the nearly starved to death boys would have food.

As I was mixing up the lasagna, S4 informed me he could see those baby feeding things on me that are bigger than his. Lots bigger than his. I was wearing a slip (I didn't want to spill on my dress!) and his comment to me should have warned me this day was going to be odd.

Further evidence of this was that S1 was outside wrapping a pig skull in chicken wire so it could rot away and we could have the skull to show off. Sorry, HE could have the skull to show off. I was okay with not seeing the skull. S1's scent arrived to the house before he did....the boy STUNK. And he had five minutes to shower and dress.

We arrived to church, late. But, the lasagna was in the oven cooking - minus cheese because while Hubby had run to the store to get milk I had not picked up, I hadn't realized I was out of mozzarella cheese too, which is key to lasagna, you must admit, so we were going to have to do a store drive by on the way home.

So, we arrived late. We have two options. Beg to sit in the back row with another family or sit all the way in the very front.

We begged.

They were kind, we were at church you remember.

So we are all huddled closely in the back pew and I ask S4 if he wants to go to Junior church which he declines but S2 begs to go...he is just too old by a mere three years to go...and S4 begins to do his sad face of "I'm just so sad you would ask me to go somewhere fun all by myself so I must be miserable now" and begins to turn this way and that way and swing his legs and scooch around until he finally finds some who-knew-he-could-find-that-comfortable way of sitting and lays his head in my lap and falls asleep, soundly.

So now we are even more huddled together and scooched rather close to the other family (who has no kids with them this Sunday) when S3 asks for a Kleenex.

Upon digging through the bag I carry to church every Sunday I hand him the Kleenex and I watch as I assume he is going to blow his nose but no, he sticks the Kleenex in his mouth and begins to wiggle his tooth. He is one sleeping child and one drawing child away from me so I can't whisper to him to wait till we get home.

He gives me a play by play, in a whisper, of course. His whisper, however, is loud enough for three pews to hear him.

"Look, Moma, a wiggly tooth!"

"Look, blood!"

"Moma, there is more blood!"

The tooth is barely hanging in there, perhaps by one string of tooth root, when he points to it and says "Do you see my wiggly tooth?"

The Kleenex is covered in blood now and so he is also wiping the blood on his jeans. The jeans he slept in and wore to church. The ones I now see have his zipper completely down. Thank goodness he had underwear on.

His too big cowboy boots are swinging wildly with every wiggle of the tooth when suddenly I see him panic. He searches the pew, his shirt, HIS unzipped ZIPPER and I know the tooth has fallen out and is MIA.

S1 finds it. In the bloody Kleenex.

He holds the tooth up triumphantly, standing up (of course) huge grin minus one tooth and he is so excited and so happy I can't help but give him a thumbs up and grin back at him. The other family, who of course has seen this all play out, had the genius idea of putting the tooth in the offering envelope for safe keeping.

S3 licked the envelope and held it close to him, checking every few seconds for the hard spot in the bottom of the envelope to let him know his tooth was indeed, still there.

And then church was over. And S4 was awakened by the organ music, sat up, leaned his head back and went right back to sleep. The entire front of my dress was soaked with his sweat and drool. I ended up carrying him out in my spiky heels that sank in the grass with ever step I took.

Next week, I think we will try to be earlier. No one will have mercy on us and let us sit next to them if we are late.