I mentioned how we are a regular Mass-going family. Very rarely do we miss Mass, because Jesus is so amazing and His gift of Himself in the Eucharist is life and strength for the soul! I could NOT do what I need to do daily in my vocation without the grace and strength I receive from the Eucharist. I shudder to think what sort of crazed, yelling, unhappy mother and wife I would be…
One would think that with so much experience and practice attending Mass, we’d have a pretty good system worked out for arriving on time, and the kids would be well-adjusted to behavior expectations.
Only that’s asking too much.
Enter the post about reality, where I share what we have experienced before. Enjoy the following true tales of being at Mass with my family.
One Sunday, my 2nd daughter loudly announced–during the Consecration–that Jesus drank beer.
We have been known to
bribe, er, encourage our children to behave well, with promise of donuts after Mass.
I am *that* mom who didn’t bat an eye at the horrid ugly Crocs her sons wore to Mass, because we were running late (again) and those shoes were at least already on their feet…
…Only to be disgusted at those same stinky feet not more than 15 minutes later, which were now out of the Crocs and in her older son’s lap while he played with his toes. During Mass. Maybe I was naive, but I really never thought I’d have to request that shoes be put back on feet in church. I mean, really. Shoes should always be on feet in church!
On another recent Sunday, while sitting with a friend’s daughter, my 4 yr old started to pick his nose. Upon telling him to stop, I turned back to reading the missal to be prepared and know what the readings were that day. A few seconds later, I turned to my son, who had turned his back to me (and was now facing several rows of pews, rapidly filling with parishioners for Mass), to find him now with a large goober on his finger. Horrified, I dug around in my purse, found him a tissue, and whispered in my best stern whisper to never do gross things like that in church again.
When our children are between the ages of 9 and 18 months, either my husband or I typically spends at least half of Mass in the back of the church with the energetic, squirmy, noisy babe.
This year, on Easter Sunday, Firecracker was blowing spit bubbles loud enough for the deacon (and presumably the priest) to hear. Thankfully, our deacon loves babies. He found it amusing.
I have had to pass on receiving the Precious Blood while holding Firecracker, because he likes to grab and would probably spill the contents of the cup. In fact, a few weeks ago, he was signing “please” as we stood in line waiting for a clear space to pass by and return to our pew.
My boys refuse to wear matching socks. Even to Mass. This past weekend, the mis-matched pair was a dark blue with a bright white sock. Again, I didn’t notice the socks before leaving the house…I am grateful he can dress himself. (anyone else relate?)
On more than one occasion, I have reminded my boys that “we don’t make gun fingers in church” or “we don’t make Spider Man hands in church”.
I have also told them that we don’t walk on the furniture in God’s house…as another wiggly child was walking all over the pews.
At daily Mass, I have recently had one child sit and pout because it was “taking too long”, while another was angsty and fidgeting because of said angst, while the baby was fussy and whining and wanting to play in the holy water font.
What are some of your best-worst stories of children at Mass? Thank God for the graces, right? And of course knowing that Jesus *wants* the children to come to him…that keeps us going every week!