Colin was released from his calling (church obligation) as Young Men President. My world has gotten infinitely more manageable, especially on Sundays. I can’t believe the amount of time we have regained as a family.
Lest we lapse into any kind of lull in church activity, we decided to rejoin the ward choir. We’ve been absent the 1.667 years of Colin’s YM tenure. Considering the number of altos these days rarely exceeds two (one brand new mom and one mother-to-be) and the bass section is often vacant during rehearsal (the sole bass is there for the actual performances–he’s an amazing vocal major and sounds like approximately 3 voices) we felt we were needed.
This was a grand idea, particularly in light of the approaching Easter season. Except for the fact that church lasts for 3 hours, it starts at 1PM, and it requires Maddie to miss her two-hour afternoon nap. Right.
By 4:15PM and the start of choir practice, the girl was toast. She was hanging by a thread when we walked back into the chapel, and had completely lost it by the time I started doling out the snacks meant to appease the beasts that were my children (Warren was wild, but at least he was happy). She screeched when I handed her the fruit leather, demanding that I open it, and then promptly chucked it aside as she snatched at the bag of Goldfish crackers. When I grabbed her little clutching fingers and asked her to sit down, her screams echoed throughout the room and rivaled the very highest soprano voices. I scooped her up to carry her out to the foyer and the girl spit. Literally, saliva projected from her mouth, giving merit to the expression, “She was so mad, she could spit!”
I spent the next 10 minutes wrestling with her to agree to sit in my lap to eat her snack, instead of wandering around not only dropping the crackers over the entire chapel floor but also rummaging through other choir attendees’ belongings. Or finding the bottle of hand sanitizer in my bag and dumping the contents on her dress, like she did the previous Sunday. (At least she didn’t drink it.)
Needless to say I missed most of the practice. And I was mortified. At least I know a few more notes than I did the week before which is good since the Easter performance is this coming Sunday. But calling my attendance productive is a bit of a stretch.
Will we continue to attend choir practice? Sure. We’re gluttons for punishment. Only next time, I’m holding Jake and Joey while Colin wrestles with the youngest and loudest 1st Soprano.