Rough Day.

I'm still in denial that this actually happened.

I'm sure Matt wishes he could block out this memory completely.

Sundays have always been hard.

They were hard when we had one kid.

Borderline awful when we had two.

I'm not sure if there's a word to describe what Sundays have become now that we have three kids to keep track of.

I've discovered that there's a little bit of a cycle with kids and church.

At least for us there is.

Church with your new baby starts off wonderful.

You get them all dressed-up. Cuddle them up in their carseat and throw a cover over the top.

You lift the cover only to check on them and to, of course, show them off to all ward members.

The only thing you really have to worry about is a diaper explosion.

And, I hate to break it to any newbies out there, a diaper explosion wouldn't hold a candle to some of the things we've put up with on Sundays.

Things go smoothly with the new baby until they discover mobility.

This makes church way less fun.

When Holynd first got mobile, she was crazy. She was crazy and I was pregnant. The pregnancy made things even more interesting. At this point in time, Matt was in the Young Mens Presidency. This meant that I was on baby-duty every Sunday during the last hour of church. We all know that the last hour is the WORST hour of church for kids. I could go on and on about Sundays with Holynd, but I'll share only one story. I'm not sure if this is the worst story. I'm sure I've suppressed some memories of bad Sundays.

Rule Number One, for me, was to sit by the door. Always sit by the door. I did NOT get to sit by the door this Sunday. In fact, I had to sit up front. Front and center. Possibly the worst possible spot you could sit with an unruly child. Things started off ok. I had an empty chair next to me. (Probably THE ONLY empty chair in Relief Society that day.) So, Holynd spent the first part of the hour crawling off and on this empty chair. She ended up spitting-up on the floor. Not a big deal for me. Holynd was a pukey-child and I was always at the ready with wipes and burp-clothes. When I turned away from Holynd to put the burp cloth away, she fell. She fell through the chair and onto an elderly lady's oxygen tank. The tank toppled over, making a giant crashing noise and stopping the entire class. This noise wasn't the most embarrassing part and neither was my screaming child. The embarrassing part was the elderly lady who was initially hit in the knee by the oxygen tank. When I looked at her to apologize (she was hunched over rubbing her wounded knee) she looked up at me and there were tears in her eyes. I'm sure Holynd gave her a really bad bruise. I vowed to never sit in the front row of Relief Society ever EVER again.

The next cycle to hit is nursery age. For most, this is a blissful time. Some have to deal with the child that refuses to go. I've only experienced this a handful of times. I've been very blessed with kids the (mostly) love nursery. However, a few people get a child like Sloane. Sloane is a bully. I think she's that way because she has to compete with Holynd all day, everyday. Sloane is frequently in trouble in nursery for being mean to other kids. She also does things like taking off her diaper and throwing it in the trash. It's not a proud moment for a parent when they're child is brought to them naked from the waist down.

But, even when your child willingly goes to nursery, they seems to hit the tantrum phase at the exact same time. Matt has spent several sacraments meetings with one of our children strapped in their carseats, screaming at the top of their lungs. Taking the kids out to the car to throw their tantrums is our go-to move. I don't know how much longer it's going to work, but we use this tactic at least every other week.

Once you settle into a routine of just having to get your child through sacrament, all the sudden it's time to potty train.

Oh potty training. I can't even handle to write down one of the stories of Holynd, potty training and church. It's pretty bad. That's all I'm going to say about that.

Once you've overcame potty-training, something amazing starts to happen. Your child starts to actually use all those items you pack in your bag every Sunday. They fold their arms during prayer and take the sacrament WITHOUT stealing several extra pieces of bread. It gets kinda nice. For us, Holynd is good as long as we keep Sloane away from her. However, Holynd is a terror in primary. Mostly because Matt and I are her teachers. But that's a whole other story. Actually, I'm not even sure if that will be one that even makes it to the blog. Not even blog therapy can help me work through those feelings. ;)

Even though I know things will get better as my kids get older, nothing can prepare a parent for what happened this last Sunday.

I'm still thinking about moving. I can tell you that right now.

The morning started off awful. Matt and I were both grumpy and the kids were NOT cooperating. Everyone was in complete meltdown mode for the two hours it took us to get ready.

Needless to say, we were late.

We were walking into church when I turned to Matt and asked if he had remembered to grab Maddox a bottle. Matt had forgotten. I helped get everyone into the chapel, took Maddox and went back to the car so that I could go grab a bottle. The chapel was packed. There was a baby blessing that day and everyone was sitting shoulder-to-shoulder. The entire way home I was saying prayer after prayer to help me get through sacrament meeting. I knew, because it was that crowded, sacrament meeting was going to be brutal. Not to mention the fact that my kids were still completely falling apart.

When I turned the corner, I saw Matt walking down the street holding Sloane.

"What could possibly have happened" I thought.

When I got closer I realized that Matt was wet. He was covered in some kind of green juice from shoulder to knee. I knew immediately that the shirt was ruined and the pants would only survive by a full fledged miracle.

"Sloane threw up"

You have got to be kidding me.

When he got in the car, the most awful throw up smell filled the car.

"She threw up everywhere. Floor, chairs, everywhere!"

"Where is Holynd?!"

"I left her there with Ruth". Ruth is my friend and is the Primary President.

"She and Billy (Elder's Quorum Presidency) took Holynd and cleaned up the mess while I ran Sloane to the bathroom. She threw up again in there. They were passing the sacrament when this all happened."

OK! Hold the phone! Not only did she cover a 2 foot radius in vomit, she did it during the quietest part of sacrament meeting and then two ward members had to help clean it up!

I could feel the tears coming. After the terrible morning we had, I was near the end of my rope.

I pulled up to the church and went into get Holynd. Ruth came up to me to ask what she could do to help. "We'll be fine. I'm going to run everyone home. Matt or I will be back to take care of Sunbeams". Ruth, without skipping a beat said, "Oh, don't worry about coming back. We'll find a sub." I'm still not sure if she said that because she could see the distress in my eyes, or because she didn't want our sickness anywhere near the Primary Room.

Sloane was really sick, but I can honestly say that I had no idea. All three kids were freaking out before church. We had no idea that she was doing it because her tummy hurt. She never threw up again. She ran a high fever that broke after a dose of Tylenol. Monday she was tired, but up and no longer running a fever.

I'm  little nervous because we ALWAYS seem to top our bad experiences with a worse experience. I'm not sure what would have to happen to beat Sloane covering the chapel with green vomit while the bread was being passed.