Sunday Confessions

Sunday Confessions: Today is hard. Totally depressingly hard. I was sitting in church absolutely loving hearing Tim play with the ensemble (drums) when Chris upchucked on the chair in front of us. Great, now we're THOSE people who come to a new church and barf. In the annals of our previous church there were barf stories. There was the family whose little girl started barfing so the mom just passed her purse down the row for the girl to barf in. There was the boy who barfed on the girl in front of him. Yep. So now, we're right there too. Lovely. I ran out to look for a towel. The church kitchen doesn't have towels... every cabinet is labeled. Not a single one said towels. After searching I found one high on a shelf... one towel. I bet someone left it after a potluck or something. They won't want it back. 

We had chosen to sit in the third row this morning to be more involved in worship. Yeah, all we did was distract. I mouthed words to Tim as he was up there with the drums during the corporate confession of sin.... it was like I was confessing our disgustingness as a family... barf on a church chair. In worship. In the third row. "Tim, Chris barfed." (Complete with hand motions and the barf mouth.) "All on these three chairs." (Elaborate motions.) "Don't let ANYONE sit there!" He raised his eyebrows at me and mouthed back, "He barfed!?" I nodded my head.

I contemplated how I could give him the rest of the info I needed to give him. I thought, can I sneak up there during a prayer? Can I send Joey? No, so instead I searched my purse for a pen. Of course it was buried deeply and as I glanced up I saw someone staring at me: it was our friend-who's-getting-ordained-tonight-and-now-I-can't-go-see-what-a-Presbyterian-ordination-looks-like's father-in-law. He probably wonders what his daughter has gotten into marrying into a church where somebody's kid barfs in the chair and then the mom writes notes in church.

I wrote my note to Tim and then went through all the motions again to tell him it was for him and to please read it. I draped it over the offending chair in front of me.

We started walking out, heading to the nursery to get Ilse and go home before anybody caught whatever it was Chris had. (I think it might be flu, now.) A nursery worker walked into the sanctuary. Apparently Ilse was having a complete meltdown in the nursery. I comforted the nursery workers and we made our escape. 

Tim stayed to finish the service and attend the young families' meeting I'd really wanted to be part of. The church is asking how they can best serve us and man, I had ideas. Now I'll have to email them instead of sitting there in peace, being served pizza I didn't pay for, and visiting with new friends.

I stopped on the way home and got sprite for both boys. When one has something the other probably isn't far behind. Of course, at the time I thought it was stomach bug (which we've never had and DON'T WANT) but now with the fever and body aches I think it's flu, especially since there's been no more barfing.

Lovely. Flu is just what we need, especially when the kids haven't gotten flu shots yet.

Today is not my day. If you need me, I'll be at home, eating the pizza I ordered and paid for myself, watching Doctor Who while I chuck Ilse's Violet across the living room floor for her to go 'fetch'. My daughter wants to be a dog.