Single Parenting...Not for the tired and pregnant!

One down, eternity to go. At least that's how it feels. Today was our first attempt at a fatherless Sacrament Meeting (although Mike was on the stand), and I must say, it was all I had imagined it to be. Despite my best efforts to contain our children in our usual corner spot on the back row, Bridget kept climbing under our bench, exchanging crayons with an unknown accomplice under the divider curtain. Twice she nearly got free from the confines of our seating (which thankfully we avoided due to my stealthy maneuvering--yeah, I'm sure you can picture it), and for most of the meeting, she insisted on being my stylist "quietly" psh, psh, pshing her pretend hairspray and running her fingers through my already done coif. Unfortunately for my hair, it was the only thing that kept her from drawing the attention of the entire congregation to our little corner of the chapel.

Then, as if one child pushing my buttons wasn't enough, I had to continually "shush" Brooke and Katie, giving them a Mom crusty, as they loudly discussed which colors to use on the My Little Pony coloring book, which tended to result in an argument when one of them used the "wrong color pink" on Pinkie Pie.

And don't think Maggie wasn't in on the conspiracy to watch Mom lose it midway through the hour. She threw her own little tantrum when I made her put her pencils, crayons & papers away after witnessing a near-double stabbing of Katie and Brooke with her pencil. She even resorted to crawling under the bench like a two-year-old, and in the process completely messed up her hair that I spent precious time working on this morning. Fine. Go to Primary with crazy hair and a wrinkled dress. Let them think I don't care, because quite frankly at this point, I don't.

I kept thinking that if I can just endure a couple of more weeks, I won't be trying to do acrobatics while sporting a contraction that I SWEAR lasted the entire meeting. Of course, then I'll just be doing those same acrobatics with a child attached to my boob. Either way, I can't express the relief I felt after the final Amen was said, and Mike showed up like a knight in shining armor to take the children away. Didn't matter where, just away.

Next week my strategy will be to not try to listen to the speakers. Then I won't be disappointed when I can't even remember who got up to speak...