The Terrible Horrible No-Good Very Bad Twos {And A Sermon}

There are days when I love nothing more than being the mother of a two year old.  It's just the best. The cuteness is just so overwhelming that I pretty much cannot contain myself.  She'll sing Fwinkle Fwinkle Little Star to me at top volume for minutes on end; she'll laugh deep, belly, baby laughs when I chase her around the kitchen; she'll stroll her stuffed turtle - she calls him "Cousin Turtle" for unknown reasons -  around the house while wearing a tutu and a bike helmet.  I mean, she calls her mittens "Miltons." Are you kidding me?  I can't even...I just...oh my gosh.  I laugh, I beam, I gaze upon her sweet, sweet face and I thank the Good Lord Above that He allows angels to masquerade as children right here on this earth.

And then I have days like last Sunday.

Days when I have to sit her down and tell her gently but firmly that this is just not working out, that I'm going to have to let her go.  That I wish her all the luck in the world but that she's just not a good fit for me at this time.  That I'll be happy to provide a letter of recommendation.  That, as much as I hate to do this, I'll have to have security walk her out, that I'll be sending her things. 

Not really, but almost.

It's amazing how quickly the dark clouds can roll in with a two year old.  It is scary and it catches me off guard every single time.  The day will be going along perfectly and I'll have the nerve to think to myself, "Wow, this day is really going along perfectly!"  And she senses this, this happiness, this bubbling of confidence in parenting skills and she makes up her mind that this simply will not do, lest the balance of power be tilted ever so slightly in my favor.  And she reigns in these dark clouds, pulls them inward, packs them tight like a snowball, and then lets them loose in a fury so great that everything in her path is blown to smithereens.  Namely me.

Sunday was, in a word, horrendous.  James was out of town on very important business at the Patriots game and I was left alone to fend off Chucky.  It being the Lord's day and all, I got us both ready for church as best I could because it is important, in times when evil lurks, to give thanks for all the many blessings in your life.  Which, yes, that is absolutely what I had in mind when burning rubber into the church parking lot that morning and it had very little, almost nothing really, to do with the heavenly bestowal of free childcare called the Church Nursery.

Thank you, Lord, for an hour and fifteen minutes of peace.  Hour and twenty-five if I walk really slowly out of the sanctuary. 

I settled into my pew and opened my heart, hoping for some message of comfort from the storm.

There were announcements and preludes and calls to worship and other church-y things that happen in a church service.  Man, it was nice.

Next came the special music, The Cherub Choir, a group of other people's angelic and musically gifted children.

Hmph. Cherubs.  NOT IN MY HOUSE.

Sweetly, they sang:
Get on board, little children
There's room for many more!

Yes, please. One way, if you don't mind.

The fare is cheap
And all can go.

Oh, really?  Everyone?  You're sure about that, Cherubs?  I'm not exactly sure where you're going on this train of yours, but you might want to be a liiiiiittle more selective about who you let on.  Just sayin'. 

More church-y things.  More singing.  All very lovely.

Then the pastor stood up and requested a moment of silence for all of those who, in the past year, had entered into eternal rest.

Eternal rest?  You mean, like, a really long nap?  Is there a sign-up sheet?  I'd even settle for a measly little week.  Some people have all the luck.  

Then a sermon.  I love sitting and listening.  Uninterrupted sitting and listening is awesome.

Then came the "Joys and Concerns" portion of the program, when members of the congregation can share their Joys and Concerns.

Here's a concern for you.  I am greatly concerned that I'm in danger of running far, far away and joining the Tea Party.  Not this tea party...

But this tea party...

...where you eat funny cookies and animals talk to you and you lose your freaking mind.  

Then a lady raised her hand and said, "I'd like to share a Joy...my mother is here with me today!  She's 92!"

How sweet.  Someone who likes that her mother is in close proximity to her.  Bet she never kicked her mother in the Adam's apple. 

Then a silent moment of prayer.

Dear God,

I'm losing my [redacted] mind today. Please [redacted] help me.  Because holy [redacted], this mom thing is hard sometimes.

Amen

Then it was time for the Passing of the Peace, where members of the congregation get up to shake each others' hands and say, "Peace be with you" but I kind of missed that part because I was sobbing quietly and had to leave.  People probably thought I was overcome with the Spirit but really it was just me inching one step closer to insanity.  That and it was nearing the end of the service and I knew I'd soon be facing my little demon once again.

But I think God understood.  He understood that even though I tried to open my heart and find peace in the sermon, that I was still a little bitter given the events of the morning.  He understood that I let a couple of cuss words slip in my prayers.  He understood that I had to leave a little early to get some fresh air and to google "What to do if you're failing as a parent" and to prepare myself for what was to come.

And He answered my prayer.  He sent another angel my way.  An angel named Aunt Jennifer, who successfully performed an exorcism entertained Walden for the rest of the afternoon.

Praise Jesus.

(I started this post a couple of weeks ago, when last Sunday really meant last Sunday.  I'm better now, thanks for asking.  Also important to note: exactly a week from the Sunday featured in the above post, James, Walden and I were baptized.  Because you can never be too careful.)

Some pictures of her more angelic moments...

 getting ready for Christmas...