Just another day in [mommy's] paradise

My little house is quiet. Both babies are napping. I find myself with that illusive treasure - time - and suddenly, I'm not sure what to do with it. Last night was similar. Josh went to basketball practice at 8:30, Greta went to bed, Joseph was sleeping, I'd finished with my shower, and there it was again - more time. I puttered around the house, tried to read, tried to interest myself in Facebook, but nothing was working. I was (dare I say?) bored. So when Greta woke up and started talking to herself in her room, I picked her up, blankets and all, grabbed a book, cuddled with her in our bed, and read to her. I missed my kids!! When she tired out, Joseph was ready to play. So I changed him and spent the rest of the evening with him, exchanging googley eyes and gurgley noises. It was the best part of my day.

I suppose I shouldn't have been so broken up with both children decided to scream for an eternity of 2 minutes in the middle of Mass this afternoon. I've been taking them to 11am Mass at one of the local nursing homes. It's a perfect time to go - my chores are done, Greta is getting bored, Joseph should be resting, and it's still too early for lunch. Greta loves it. After I told her we were going to Mass, I soon found her crying in her room, frustrated because she couldn't carry Joseph's car seat out. Ahhh! Love those moments. Yet even with them, I feel ever so slightly like I'm going into battle as I walk through the doors of that very, very quiet chapel. It would be an ideal place to go to church because both the priest and the nursing home residents can't hear much, and the sisters who work there love the kids. But why, oh why, oh why does one toddler talking to herself all through Mass sound like a car alarm going off? And why, oh why does Joseph sound like he is nursing into a microphone? Because Greta, who is normally very silent around strangers, feels quite at home in God's house and won't shut up. Joseph, who hasn't looked twice at his boobs all morning, suddenly takes on the behavior of a starving child. All that said, I've managed to deal with it, even finding it humorous enough to laugh at. But today... somehow, both children yelling at once, in a very quiet place, made me feel absolutely alone and helpless. I stuck Joseph under one arm and dragged Greta into a conveniently-placed "workroom." If I had been more collected, I'm sure Greta would have quieted down, but instead, my state of tears reduced her to even further shrieks of dismay. By the end of the episode, I found myself sobbing about how much I hated God and why did He have to make everything so difficult. I know, pathetic. I'm reverting back to the "terrible two's" behavior of "hating" anything you can transfer blame to. "God, if you want me to be here, you'd better show me and quickly. Or we are not doing this again." I suppose that is the downside of believing  God is real. Sometimes it's hard to speak respectfully in a crisis.

Well, I guess He did want us there, crying children and all. After Mass, Sister Joseph came up to us and asked if we would like to see where Anna (my sister) worked. She took us to the residents' lunch room, where we visited for about half an hour. Joseph (of course!) was all smiles and giggles and everyone loved him. Greta was completely dead-pan, but at least she waved good bye to everyone. And Mommy? Mommy realized for the upteenth time that the best way to stop feeling sorry for yourself is to do something nice for other people. Everyone seemed happier for having seen the babies and yes, we are going to do this again.