Whose Idea Was This, Again?
Stake Choir.
For those of you who have been called to sing in stake choir know what a blessing it is. . . or "turns out to be", I should say. :) I'm totally not knocking it. Even though I do not consider myself a singer in any sense of the word {in fact, I joke that the Lord made me play the violin because it keeps my mouth shut}, there's just something about singing in the stake choir that I quite enjoy.
HOWEVER.
This was my first rehearsal with a kid.
Say no more, right?!
Well, I have a lot more to say, folks. So buckle up your seat belts and get ready for a funny story. {Funny now. . . not funny 45 minutes ago.}
For starters, let me preface this evening by saying that Hannah has been 'on one' for the past. um, 3 days. At least. She seems to want to be held 24/7 and her life goes from peachy-keen to OH-MY-GOODNESS-THE-HEAVENS-ARE-COLLIDING-WE'RE-ALL-GONNA-DIE in roughly 2.1 seconds. Newborns are good at that sort of thing. So I'm exhausted with nerves that are about as raw as a pound of hamburger. Just ask my husband. I've been quite the mope.
Anywhoo, time to leave for choir practice begins to loom nearer and nearer and Hannah continued to have a melt down at home. You can imagine how excited I was to load her in the car seat and tote her along to a chapel full of {kid-less} adults trying to listen intently to their chorister and learn new music.
Pretty darn excited.
Luckily, her melt down ended shortly after buckling her in her car seat and the ride to the church building calmed her down to where she fell asleep. Thank goodness! Whew.
Well. . . that lasted for about, um, 15 minutes. Hannah went from being a silent sleeping babe to having an utter melt down quicker than you could snap your fingers. Holy flying monkey farts in space. I couldn't unbuckle her fast enough! And, conveniently enough, the new chorister was having everyone introduce themselves, and my turn was rapidly approaching. I barely got her out of the car seat, my face red as a beet in mid-July, before I had to yell out my name over the wailing infant in my arms and announce that she was also mine. Sorry, folks unfortunate enough to pick a seat by me. Hope you don't value your eardrums.
I dove into the hallway like I was under rapid fire and a well-meaning-but-really-rather-perturbing 6 year old girl (who was accompanying her mother to the rehearsal) decided to follow me out. I tried to calm my kid while listening to the little girl talk about how cute and little she was. All the while I'm thinking, "Not working. Not working. Mayday! Melt down is going into its third quarter and something must be done. . . STAT." I made like a bandit to the "Mothers Room" {which just so happens to be on the complete opposite corner of the building}, and, don't you worry!-- The well-meaning-but-really-rather-perturbing 6 year old girl is still in my shadow. I heard over Hannah's murderous screams something like, "My mom said that if I was with an adult, I could go anywhere in the church!"
Great.
Totally my lucky day.
I changed Hannah's bum, thinking that might be the issue. Nope. Do not pass go; do not collect $200. The bemoaning continued. All the while, the little girl is talking my ear off, grabbing the forsaken toys left in the Mothers Room and suggesting Hannah play with them. However, I give her 5 gold stars for trying to get Hannah to take her binkie while I was frantically trying to get a fresh diaper on her bum. . . but something about the fact that my child was this close to needing a flippin' exorcism, it didn't take. Then she announced that she thought Hannah wanted to sit with her in the chapel. Nice try, kid. But, no.
I announced that I was going to try and rock her to sleep, and the little girl started to get bored with me. She started to wander around the room like it was a padded cell. Then, out of nowhere, a random lady walked into the room, no doubt drawn to me by the squawking. She needed directions to another chapel in the stake. Um, I have no idea, lady. No offense, but now's not really a good time. My eardrums are gonna bleed in 4 seconds and I can hardly hear your pleas for assistance.
After she left, I got to thinking and I'm pretty sure I gave her backwards directions. Whoops.
Fast forward to me sweating puddles in the chapel because Hannah refused to be placed in her car seat and I hadn't had time to take off my sweater before this escapade began. I sang while swaying side to side, patting her back, and occasionally bouncing her up and down simultaneously for about an hour. It was awesome. At one point, I was able to put her down, but she insisted I rock her back and forth with my foot. Not so comfortable after about 30 seconds.
She stopped fussing on the car ride home, but the second I turned off the engine, she started crying. It's been a battle since then, with me winning some and her winning others. Right now the score stands at Hannah: 489,012 points; Mommie: 3. And I'm pretty sure 2 of those points technically belong to the gas drops, and one belongs to the swing. So, uh, I'm losing miserably. . . but I'm alive! And the choir music survived the trip home to see another rehearsal next week. Let's hope the same can be said for me. ;) So, as I said, whose idea was this, again?
Oh, and if you know of any gypsies looking for a kid, shoot them my digits. I'll sell her for a good price! :)
For those of you who have been called to sing in stake choir know what a blessing it is. . . or "turns out to be", I should say. :) I'm totally not knocking it. Even though I do not consider myself a singer in any sense of the word {in fact, I joke that the Lord made me play the violin because it keeps my mouth shut}, there's just something about singing in the stake choir that I quite enjoy.
HOWEVER.
This was my first rehearsal with a kid.
Say no more, right?!
Well, I have a lot more to say, folks. So buckle up your seat belts and get ready for a funny story. {Funny now. . . not funny 45 minutes ago.}
For starters, let me preface this evening by saying that Hannah has been 'on one' for the past. um, 3 days. At least. She seems to want to be held 24/7 and her life goes from peachy-keen to OH-MY-GOODNESS-THE-HEAVENS-ARE-COLLIDING-WE'RE-ALL-GONNA-DIE in roughly 2.1 seconds. Newborns are good at that sort of thing. So I'm exhausted with nerves that are about as raw as a pound of hamburger. Just ask my husband. I've been quite the mope.
Anywhoo, time to leave for choir practice begins to loom nearer and nearer and Hannah continued to have a melt down at home. You can imagine how excited I was to load her in the car seat and tote her along to a chapel full of {kid-less} adults trying to listen intently to their chorister and learn new music.
Pretty darn excited.
Luckily, her melt down ended shortly after buckling her in her car seat and the ride to the church building calmed her down to where she fell asleep. Thank goodness! Whew.
Well. . . that lasted for about, um, 15 minutes. Hannah went from being a silent sleeping babe to having an utter melt down quicker than you could snap your fingers. Holy flying monkey farts in space. I couldn't unbuckle her fast enough! And, conveniently enough, the new chorister was having everyone introduce themselves, and my turn was rapidly approaching. I barely got her out of the car seat, my face red as a beet in mid-July, before I had to yell out my name over the wailing infant in my arms and announce that she was also mine. Sorry, folks unfortunate enough to pick a seat by me. Hope you don't value your eardrums.
I dove into the hallway like I was under rapid fire and a well-meaning-but-really-rather-perturbing 6 year old girl (who was accompanying her mother to the rehearsal) decided to follow me out. I tried to calm my kid while listening to the little girl talk about how cute and little she was. All the while I'm thinking, "Not working. Not working. Mayday! Melt down is going into its third quarter and something must be done. . . STAT." I made like a bandit to the "Mothers Room" {which just so happens to be on the complete opposite corner of the building}, and, don't you worry!-- The well-meaning-but-really-rather-perturbing 6 year old girl is still in my shadow. I heard over Hannah's murderous screams something like, "My mom said that if I was with an adult, I could go anywhere in the church!"
Great.
Totally my lucky day.
I changed Hannah's bum, thinking that might be the issue. Nope. Do not pass go; do not collect $200. The bemoaning continued. All the while, the little girl is talking my ear off, grabbing the forsaken toys left in the Mothers Room and suggesting Hannah play with them. However, I give her 5 gold stars for trying to get Hannah to take her binkie while I was frantically trying to get a fresh diaper on her bum. . . but something about the fact that my child was this close to needing a flippin' exorcism, it didn't take. Then she announced that she thought Hannah wanted to sit with her in the chapel. Nice try, kid. But, no.
I announced that I was going to try and rock her to sleep, and the little girl started to get bored with me. She started to wander around the room like it was a padded cell. Then, out of nowhere, a random lady walked into the room, no doubt drawn to me by the squawking. She needed directions to another chapel in the stake. Um, I have no idea, lady. No offense, but now's not really a good time. My eardrums are gonna bleed in 4 seconds and I can hardly hear your pleas for assistance.
After she left, I got to thinking and I'm pretty sure I gave her backwards directions. Whoops.
Fast forward to me sweating puddles in the chapel because Hannah refused to be placed in her car seat and I hadn't had time to take off my sweater before this escapade began. I sang while swaying side to side, patting her back, and occasionally bouncing her up and down simultaneously for about an hour. It was awesome. At one point, I was able to put her down, but she insisted I rock her back and forth with my foot. Not so comfortable after about 30 seconds.
She stopped fussing on the car ride home, but the second I turned off the engine, she started crying. It's been a battle since then, with me winning some and her winning others. Right now the score stands at Hannah: 489,012 points; Mommie: 3. And I'm pretty sure 2 of those points technically belong to the gas drops, and one belongs to the swing. So, uh, I'm losing miserably. . . but I'm alive! And the choir music survived the trip home to see another rehearsal next week. Let's hope the same can be said for me. ;) So, as I said, whose idea was this, again?
Oh, and if you know of any gypsies looking for a kid, shoot them my digits. I'll sell her for a good price! :)
That is too funny:) I am sorry:( It get's better (nope not really) Just wanna let you know. It is so FUN to have KIDS!!!! oh what we go through:)
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