Wacky Wednesdays

Take a good look at the picture. There are three sticker books, two different coloring books, seven story books, a book of mazes, two I Spy books, a notebook, plastic stencils to make letters, three sets of pencil crayons (because I'm obsessed), Pooh's Number Match cards and an iPaq (not seen in the picture). I don't let Seth bring cars or such like to church because we have wooden pews (which make noisy racetracks), and everyone knows that a boy can't play with his cars without sound effects.

So, will somebody please explain to me why there should be any good reason for my son to be bored in church?

I'll tell you what the problem is. It's Wednesday. I've come to expect them to be one of my worst days of the week - it's a church day. I also believe that years down the road when I look back on this diary, and fondly reminisce, that a large amount of my material will be written about the trials of trying to keep a four-year-old (or three-year-old, or five-year-old - and Lord Jesus, I pray that's all!) content and well behaved in church.

He was cranky just before leaving for church. He found out his daddy was taking his own vehicle instead of riding with us, so he refused to get in the van. Because my neighbour was watching this little drama unfold, I was very careful on how I handled the situation. He got in the van only after I got in and shut all the doors. Now, really, I don't like doing that, and in fact have never done it before. I think it's cruel to pretend to leave your child behind alone (even when they are being turkeys), but of the options I had (because calmly picking him up and gently putting him in the van was NOT one of them), I thought this was the lesser of two evils - because of the nosy neighbour.

Alas - wonderful whining on the way to church. I told him if it didn't stop we would head straight downstairs for some wonderful mommy/son time somewhere in private, a liberty I am more inclined to carry out when I'm around those who know me well.

He stopped. For the moment. In hindsight, I should have just paddled him good and got it over with, because unfortunately the night only got worse.

He was not interested in anything I brought to church. He was in his best pest mode. He bugged his sister (in the guise of just watching her make letters). He bugged me.

And still I didn't spank his bum. Dumb.

Song service starts. He wants to give me wet kisses. I tell him to stop. He doesn't - imagine that? I pinch his cheek. He is shocked - after all mommy pinched his cheek!

And still I didn't spank his bum. Dumb.

He decides he wants his daddy. Hallelujah! I get a few minutes break. During the preaching he paces back and forth between Hannah, daddy and me. He still doesn't want to do any of the activities I've brought. He smiles constantly - you know, that Calvin-without-the-Hobbes type of smile. I want to wipe it off his face. He decides to pinch - or should I say grab - the end of my elbow and says "honk, honk" out loud.

And still I didn't spank his bum. Dumb.

He eventually settles into coloring. Or should I say he settles onto my lap with a coloring book pointing at what he wants me to color. Yep. That's the way Seth colors. By giving directions. I'm sure he's going to have an important job some day giving orders and being lazy (probably for the City or something). But at least he's content for ten minutes, until I decide I'm done coloring - I'm still a bit cranky with him - and tell him he's on his own. He colors for approximately three minutes alone. Then he decides that daddy will help him with this very difficult task and ends up on his knee. Until his big sister realizes he's coloring in her book (I didn't clue in to this earlier). The war is on! She grabs her book away from him. He struts by her and grabs the book (with his bottom lip sticking out a mile). I remove the book from his hands and hand it to her. Then I grab him and try to sit him on my lap. He stiffens like a board.

And I have finally reached my limit. And I did what I should have done three dumbs ago. I know this is where some will say.......well duh! You should be more consistent! Stick to your guns!

Yep, I should. But I was weak and he was stronger. That's not an excuse. It's called being a real mom. And don't worry, I'll get back to it tomorrow when I've again renewed my resolve.

On the way out of church, after his punishment was meted out, I told him he was going straight to bed after his snack. There would be no bed time story. He replied,

"But mom, what about brushing my teeth!"

I told him I thought I could manage that. We pull in the driveway and I realize that I hadn't watered my flowerbed yet. I leave them in the van to finish listening to Jungle Jam while I water my flowers. When they get out, Seth is sniveling because Hannah apparently scratched his nose. It looks pretty serious, so I tell him that perhaps amputation is required. He tells me he needs a bandaid.

We go into the house. He runs into the bathroom and grabs a bandaid. He insists on having it on. So, being the loving parent that I am, I complied (does this remind you of your youngest, Laura?) In all honesty, I just wanted to get a picture of it.

It didn't stay on too long when he realized he couldn't breathe through his nose, which of course, is what I planned for.

Tomorrow's Thursday. I'm sure he'll be back to his angelic self and I'll become the perfect mother again.