So tonight was Christmas Eve Mass. Let me paint you a picture.
Sometime in the past three days, Angie and I decided that we would all go to Mass together. Yes, our two familes (7 children in total) would fight through 2500 people and sit together at the 4pm Mass. Last year we went to the 4pm Mass. I was 6 months pregnant. I ended up sitting on the concrete behind a giant pillar. Did anyone offer a seat to the pregnant lady? No. Twice Yearly Catholics are ruthless.
So Angie calls today around 1:15 and says, "We should leave my house around 2:15 or so." I say, "Okay, cool, we'll leave here around 1:45." I hang up the phone and glance at the clock. It's 1:35. Wha??! So I start yelling and running around. All of the girls are napping, of course. I run into our room, where I see Molly sound asleep, in the clothes I'm planning to wear to Mass. They've been lying on the bed all morning, and Molly decided to change into them before she fell asleep. It's ADORABLE, but we have ten minutes. I wake her up and she mumbles, "I'm wearing yo cwose two hours!" Umm...okay. Molly is the first into her Christmas dress. Or should I say, her 2010 Christmas dress/birthday dress/Claire's baptism dress/2011 Christmas dress. I'm cheap, and who on earth buys a dress for their kid to wear once? I bought it extra-roomy last year, and this year it fits like a glove.
I throw on my clothes, and run into the playroom where Lucy is out cold. She comes to and growls, "I wasn't even sleeping for very long." Yeah. This from the kid who naps once every 4 weeks. I throw her dress over her head and Andrew rushes them into the car. I grab my sleeping Chubbers McGee from her crib and buckle her into her carseat.
Molly's howling, I'm throwing Santa threats around like they're credible and everyone smiling by the time we get to Angie's. Angie, her daughter M (who has been instructed to bring her biggest coat) and I jump into the car and peel wheels to the church, where there are approximately four cars in the parking lot. We cackle as we rush into the church, because we know we can sit wherever we darn well please. And we do. 20 minutes later, the church is filling up and we're thrilled to pieces with our "ten rows back, near the choir" seats. People rush up to our pews, see our coats laid out and then throw us nasty looks as they realize the pews are taken. Sheesh, people, get there early! We didn't give up our Saturday afternoon to play bridge, here.
The men finally arrive with the balance of the children. They range in age from 10 years to 8 months. 8 months, 2, 2.5, 3, 4.5, 8, 10. The two oldest are quiet and sweet. The rest of them are like...puppies. Yipping, squirming, whining, chewing on things, sleeping here and there, licking each other, howling...just like puppies. The church is just crammed with people, and we're all just relieved that we have a place to sit.
With about 30 minutes to go until Mass starts, people start looking around because something smells. It smells BAD. I tell Andrew it's Molly several times, he swears it's my diaper bag. I finally decide it's really Molly, and Andrew gives me loose directions to the car so I can change her. It was definitely her, and I definitely had ONE WIPE in the car. Of course. I get her changed and she still stinks. So I spray her skirt with the first thing I can find. She asks me, "Mama, whatchoo pwaying me wif?" I throw the bottle back into the car and grab the toddler. "Lysol, honey." She beams. "Ooh, dat so niiice!" Uhhh...yes.
We run (Mama in 4 inch heels - they make me 5'6". They're worth it.) back into the church and Mass is about to start. I apologize to everyone seated around me for the "did something die in here?" incident and nurse Claire real quick, as the bottle I brought may be filling, but it's no substitute for clawing at Mama in public while the dude behind her huffs in astonishment. (Don't make me use my "Baby Jesus was breastfed" line, mister.) We make it through the Penitential Rite and Claire is now happy and ready to play hard. Of course. She starts blowing noisy raspberries at the people behind her, stopping every few seconds to let out a noise that sounds something like a dog whistle. It's her new trick. While it may be ear-splitting, the look on her face mid-squeak is just too cute. The people behind us are cooing up a storm and Claire's just eating it up. Andrew and I pass her back and forth for 75 minutes while she drools on us and spits at the neighbors.
Mass is dandy, (with the exception of Molly sticking her hands up my skirt several times) and singing Joy To The World at the end of Mass is just perfect. The joy that this year as brought is undeniable, and Andrew and I are so, so, so tickled with the life we have together. Three healthy, slobbering kids, a new house to let them run, a marriage that nourishes us, a job that puts food on the table and challenges Andrew, friends who just make us so happy, a parish we love...in six short years of marriage, we've been given the moon and stars. To think that I thought he was cute from across the cafeteria...
Mass ends and we call ahead to Texas Roadhouse. 11 starving people headed out for steak and beer. Hallelujah, indeed. We put 4 of the kids at one table and keep the youngest 3 at the other with us. The oldest 4 just confirm what every patron thought when they saw us walk in. Noise and chaos, here to run you out of the restaurant. We ignore them, for the most part. The children, I mean. It's hard to ignore the tight-lipped grimaces from everyone else. But hey, what are you going to do? The best way to kill time between Jesus and Santa is with red meat, right?
Once we've completely destroyed the Roadhouse, we super-tip our server and bundle the kiddies into the car. Almost Christmas!
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Laura Cooke
Spread love everywhere you go. Let no one ever come to you without leaving happier. ~ Mother Teresa
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