Today was my very first Mother's Day where I genuinely qualified for the Mother's Day present at church.
Well, I mean, not that I have an actual baby yet, but I'm growing one in my ever-enlarging uterus, so, same same.
I was just so happy that the young men who were handing out the flowers after sacrament meeting didn't have to waffle around in front of me wondering whether they should cough up a crimson chrysanthemum or not.
If they did waffle, I was going to pull up my shirt and show them my stretch marks.
Because if that didn't get me a flower, I don't know what would've.
Plus, there's nothing like partial nudity to really freak out a 14-year-old boy at church.
The funny thing about getting a Mother's Day present is that living in Ruby Valley, Nevada, all of the girls got Mother's Day presents - regardless of status of motherhood. Because if there's anything we grew up knowing in Ruby Valley, it's the importance of breeding and the potential to breed. So, I've been a potential mother since I was born and therefore, worthy of a present.
Either that, or I just hung around looking pathetic, so if there were leftover gifts, I was sure to be the first to get one.
One year it was a giant chunk of homemade Reese's Pieces.
Good grief, it was one of the greatest days of my life.
Anyway, I digress.
Following sacrament meeting, I went to Primary.
Mostly to remind myself that I really have no business being a mother as I pretty much hate children.
I guess I should qualify that statement by saying that I hate children in large groups.
This week I even tried to change my tactics - I was going to be that nice church lady that whispered in the kid's ear something about Jesus not being happy with how they were acting. Naturally, this would lead them to want to sit in their chair for longer than 15 seconds.
It didn't work. Like even a little bit.
It also didn't help anything that I kept thinking I was going to toss my cookies right there on the carpet.
After about 45 minutes, I was sitting there, completely worn out, thinking, "It does not bode well for my own babies that I have more compassion and motherly instincts for the stray dogs and cats at work than I do for human children."
The very best part is that there are two new kids in my class - so instead of nine, there are now eleven.
Fan-freakin'-tastic.
One little girl, after getting reprimanded several times for taking another children's possessions, told me that she was going to tell her mom and dad that I was being mean to her and then her dad would beat me up.
The only thing that came to my head was, "Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn."
But I didn't say it.
Because no matter how bad of a day you're having, you'll probably go straight to hell for swearing at church.
2 comments:
You won't go straight to hell, I promise. One of my favorite church stories ever involves my bff's 6 year-old daughter banging on the car door after three hours of church and screaming in the parking lot, "OPEN THE DAMN DOOR!!!!!!!!!!!!" She's also the same girl that as a three year-old, she walked down the hall in church, tripped, and out flew the S*** word. I should do a post about all the funny things this girl has said. My absolute favorite is three years ago when we all went for a small Memorial Day nature hike and she went about 200 feet, sat down on the ground, looked at her mom and said, "GET THE CAR!"
You need to tell the bishop that no one should ever be responsible for more than 5 three year olds at once. Not by yourself. Get back up.
Post a Comment