Wishing I Could Take a Sabbatical

The 4 of us went to church to start Lent off on the right foot (or forehead, as the case may be, since that’s really the body part involved with the ashes). Now, this is something we don’t do too often these days, go to church as a quartet. Why, you ask? Have you met Sabrina, the toddler who is LOUD, LOUD, and have I mentioned LOUD? She’s at the age (or ages, since this has been ongoing for some time) where she talks all the ever-living time, at full volume, and coincidentally thinks the word quiet only means making a Shh! sound (again at full volume) before going right back into chit chatting. Couple this with her complete inability to be still for more than 0.4 nanoseconds, and you start to see why I contemplative, peaceful place like a church might not be the best place to take her. Surely (pleaseohpleaseohplease) she will outgrow this phase and we’ll be able to bring her on a consistent basis. Until then, we separate.

We didn’t have that option so much yesterday, so we sucked it up, knowing the struggle before us. Or so we thought. I was prepared for Sabrina (with the usual requirements of books, snacks, juice, and pacifier if need be), but Sammy decided to throw me for a loop. He hadn’t had the best of days (according to his teacher), and I knew that was continuing when he asked for a snack within moments of sitting down. I tried to explain that big boys don’t eat in church (not exactly the most compelling argument when he can see his sister munching down next to him), which kicked off such a lovely temper tantrum, which spurred his sister to get even louder, and have I mentioned that I was outnumbered at this point since Chris hadn’t made it over from work yet? Yeah. Fun times.

It didn’t really get any better than that the rest of the time, and I just sunk lower and lower in my seat. My children had become Those Kids, the ones getting the furtive over the shoulder looks and mild whispers. Just paint a scarlet M on my chest.

Parenting isn’t easy; anyone will tell you that. But it’s moments like this that make the weight of the office very heavy on my shoulders indeed. I know everyone has these moments, but it doesn’t stop the feelings of Parenthood Fail from blinking bright and red in my head. We’re doing the best we can, and every day (on average), they learn at little more, get a better idea of respectable behavior, and someday they may even be adults who can contribute something to the world other than a perfectly pitched whine. I know I won’t stop working toward that goal.

But I sure did want to strap a sign to their chest reading Free Kids and stick them in the vestibule for the first taker.