I survived the sabbath.

Sundays! Holy smokes, they kick my trash every time. Mondays are always such sweet relief. 

Mike had meetings before church, so I got the boys ready & got there just before the opening hymn was sung. West was sleepy (+ sad) a few minutes later, so out I went into the hall & put him in the Bjorn for a few laps around the building until he fell asleep (my babies do not sleep in arms, unless intervention of the Divine sort is involved - apparently church was not enough reason for such). Once he was asleep, I couldn't sit down of course (you do not mess with a sleeping baby), so I stood in the back & half-listened to the rest of the meeting while Mike wrangled our reverence-challenged Quinn. 

I spent the second hour being the best assistant ward librarian I could be with a baby lashed to my chest.

West woke up at the end of that hour, I chatted a bit too long, & he was hungry. I tried to slip into Relief Society to feed him in the back so that I could get some sort of spiritual nourishment, & completely failed. Screaming! People staring! Apparently he didn't like our situation. I ran out with my dress entirely unbuttoned up top (my nursing cover covering me), praying that I wouldn't flash anyone while I ran down the hall to the mother's lounge (ick) to nurse in what was hopefully a more acceptable location to West. It was.

Successful feeding + burping + changing (+ a little bit of chatting, oops) later, & there was 20 minutes left of our three hour church block. No point in staying really, so I hopped in my car & headed home. 

Sigh.

Three hours of church & I attended nothing. I'm not exactly feeling spiritually enriched, but so it goes for the next, oh, 15 months.

Babies!

And now, a small rant: 

I think I've had enough of the Oh, just wait until... comments. Have I talked about this before? I find them so condescending, as if  I'll never actually reach the point of deserving real sympathy from people or that I'm not an actual legitimate mother until... I always felt like a Junior Mama with just one baby & thought I'd be treated as legitimate with my second, & have been so frustrated to find that it just never ends. Q being sassy? Just wait until he's older & then he'll really be hard! Getting on a flight? Oh, just wait until you're traveling with THREE! That's really hard! I'm sure 14 (or 3, or 6) kids is a tough situation, but that doesn't negate what I'm experiencing right now with two. And yes, of course they'll grow up & I'll be a little sad about that, & yes, I know it all goes by quickly & I need to cherish every single moment (although I disagree with this for a number of reasons - Don't Carpe Diem has always resonated with me)... Blah blah blah people! Also, please refrain from pointing out that my child needs a nap, or such phrases as someone isn't very happy!! altogether. As if I was completely oblivious & was desperately needing other people to point out that my child isn't thrilled with his current circumstances. My only saving grace is that when I'm just with West & people ask Is he your first? (just waiting to pounce on me with all of their very best advice) I can smile & say, No - my second. Obviously, having two children does not make me The Queen of All Mothering Knowledge, but I feel like I've earned a few Mama Merit Badges in the past few years, & I've generally been spared all sorts of unsolicited comments that came with my first, although I'm still getting more than enough.

(I'm done now.)  

****

I went to the park with Quinn on Saturday morning while West napped & Mike worked. It was warm & humid & gloomy, but he was so happy to be outside & just wanted to run, run, run. He runs like a big kid now! He was skipping, & wiggling & dancing everywhere we went. Happy.

(Donkey normally isn't allowed to leave our house, but Q insisted & I was tired.)